The Silent Snake
by Metallicafangirl
Summary: COMPLETE By chance and possible bad luck, Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini get stuck in the Room of Requirement for four hours. Will it be the start of a friendship, or will they tear out each others throat's?
1. The Room of Requirement

Someone asked for a longer story with Blaise and Hermione. Here it is. Hope you like it.  
  
I am now the Official Librarian at HMS Overworked and Underappreciated, FictionAlley's Boy!Blaise/Hermione ship. I can also be proud of my position as Official Keeper of Keys to Snape's Cabin at SS Prudence and Potions, the Snape/Hermione ship.  
  
But enough about me; you came to read the story.  
  
******'  
  
Hermione sat down in one of the comfortable chairs in the Hogwarts Library. Her fellow Gryffindors were playing Truth or Dare in the Common Room., and she'd taken the chance to escape when everyone was looking at Harry and Ginny, who because of a dare from Lavender were forced to kiss each other in front of the whole Common Room.  
  
She didn't enjoy games like Truth or Dare; she felt they were annoying distractions, that kept her from doing valuable things with her time. That was why she was in the library at the moment. The library was, strangely enough, open longer than curfew. Students were allowed in there, even if they according to school rules were supposed to be in their dormitories.  
  
This particular loophole was one she was eternally grateful for at the moment; she'd found it in a Students' Handbook in her sixth year, and it enabled her to carry on with her studying, even though it was long past curfew. And as long as no one caught her on her way back from the library, she wasn't exactly breaking rules.  
  
She smiled; the phrase ´if no one can prove it, it never happened´ might as well be the Slytherin motto, but for tonight, she had adopted it as her own. Speaking of Slytherins, she hadn't seen any of them on the prowl in the corridors tonight, which was strange, since they always seemed to be out and about, no matter what time of the day it was.  
  
Sighing happily to herself, she buried her nose in her favourite book; Hogwarts, A History, and let the world around her disappear for the time being. No matter how many times she read it, the book was still as fascinating.  
  
*****'  
  
The door to the silent library creaked open, letting a tall, slim figure slip inside, hidden by the dark shadows. The moonlight traced patters on the floor, casting an eerie silver light over the room, where the last candle was extinguished several hours ago.  
  
Quiet footfalls seemed to echo in the silence, as the person walked across the floor quickly, towards the back of the library, where the more advanced books were kept. There were also the yearbooks and student-records, stuffed in between Arithmancy for Addicts and Famous Fire Breathers.  
  
The silent figure sneaked around a bookshelf, and halted for a moment, seeming to listen. Nothing but quiet breaths broke the silence, and it was just about to take another step, when a voice broke through the night.  
  
"Looking for something?" It asked.  
  
The figure jumped, and spun around, coming face to face with a brown haired girl sitting calmly at one of the tables, reading a book by the moonlight. She smiled softly, and turned a page, eyes returning to the book.  
  
"When are you going to run to the nearest professor to report me?"  
  
The girl lifted her head, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Blaise Zabini. I wondered where you Slytherins were hiding." She commented, but didn't move.  
  
"Aren't you going to tell on me?" Blaise asked, confused, waiting for her to scramble to her feet and run out to door, screaming for Professor McGonagall.  
  
"What? And get myself detention too? Don't be silly. Besides, you aren't breaking any rules by being here, not to my knowledge, at least, so I have no reason to tell on you." She shrugged.  
  
Blaise blinked. Quickly, he moved across the floor and sat down in the chair next to her, leaning forward.  
  
"How can you say I am not breaking any rules? I am in the library well past curfew, and so are you." He said, looking at her with one eyebrow raised.  
  
"Being out in the corridors after curfew is against the rule; being in the library isn't." She said calmly. "I found it in one of the Students Handbooks over there." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.  
  
Blaise leaned back. That was certainly interesting; Slytherin would benefit from that information a great deal. But he wasn't there to talk about rules. He had other things to do.  
  
"Interesting." He said. "Unfortunately, I have other things to attend to. Do you know where they keep Hogwarts, A History? I lost my copy."  
  
Smiling, she held up the book she was reading. Across its battered leather cover was written ´Hogwarts, A History´ in faded golden letters. Blaise swore under his breath; now he'd have to wait even longer.  
  
"You can have this; I've read it before anyway." She said, handing him the book.  
  
"Thank you." He said, surprised that she'd let him have the book, even though she wasn't finished with it.  
  
"You're welcome. Good luck with getting back to the Common Room; Filch is on the war-path; someone painted Mrs Norris pink" She warned.  
  
Blaise nodded, black curls flying, and headed out of the library again; his mission was accomplished. Strangely enough, with the help of a Gryffindor. Not your average Gryffindor, either, but Hermione Granger, one of the most strict students at Hogwarts.  
  
That was a mystery he would have to solve some other time, right now, his main objective was to get back to the dungeons without running into Filch. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of Mrs Norris painted pink, as he slipped through the shadows of the dark corridors.  
  
He had nearly reached the stairs leading down to the dungeons, when he heard someone's footsteps approaching from the other end of the corridor, and he froze on the spot. He had nowhere to hide, and no matter how fast he was, he was never going to get down the stairs before Filch found him. Being caught in the corridors, with a library book in his hands, after curfew, was going to land him in more than one detention.  
  
Standing there, debating whether he should hex Filch and maybe get away with it, or take his punishment, he was suddenly tackled by something, knocking him into a banner hanging on the wall, which yielded to his weight and sent him crashing into the back wall of a small alcove.  
  
His first reaction was to scream, but someone's hand was clapped over his mouth. His second thought was that Filch knew about the alcove, and was going to find him, and whoever his attacker was. His third thought was that he should hex his attacker, but he was pinned against the wall by someone, trapping his arms beside him, rendering them useless.  
  
Something was thrown over him, and he found himself looking into Hermione Granger's brown eyes. She was the one pinning him against the wall, with her hand over his mouth, preventing him from talking or even breathing too loud. She gave him a look that clearly told him to shut up or die, and turned her head slightly, listening to the footsteps outside.  
  
"It there anyone there, my sweet?" Asked Filch, apparently talking to his cat.  
  
He was answered by a meow, and the two teens could hear him walking towards their hiding place.  
  
Blaise watched as Hermione closed her eyes and moved her lips in what could have been a prayer, and he found himself wishing he could join her, but alas, she still had her hand over his mouth.  
  
To his horror, Filch dragged the banner away, and looked straight at them, and he knew they were done for. However, Filch just grumbled incoherently, and let it fall back into place, and walked off talking to his cat.  
  
Hermione leaned to the side, watching Filch through slit between the wall and the banner, still not pulling her hand away. She let out a sigh as he disappeared around a corner in the corridor, and allowed herself a small smile.  
  
"Thank god." She whispered.  
  
Blaise tried to agree, but succeeded only in nearly biting her palm. She glared at him, but then noticed her hand, and pulled it away, mumbling an apology. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.  
  
"Come on; if we stay here, Filch will find us." She whispered, and grabbed his sleeve.  
  
Too surprised to argue, and because he didn't want a furious Gryffindor on his back, and either way believing that it was the best he could do, he followed. She dragged him out of the alcove and down the corridor, all the while looking around her and breathing as silently as possible.  
  
Blaise noticed the strange shimmering fabric draped around them, but didn't dare ask about it, having been witness to the slap she'd delivered to Draco Malfoy and not wanting to receive one of his own.  
  
*****'  
  
They walked through several corridors, and up and down several stairs, and after a while he started to notice that they were walking in a circle, at first away from the Slytherin Common Room, and then back again.  
  
Hermione seemed to know where she was going, so Blaise saw no reason to complain, since she had narrowly gotten him out of a detention with Filch. He was getting a bit worried though, since she hadn't spoken a word since they left the alcove.  
  
They were just walking along a corridor in the upper part of the castle, when they once again heard Filch muttering around the corner, and once again, they had nowhere to hide, or at least so he thought. Hermione had other ideas, however.  
  
She halted immediately, and spun on her heels, almost knocking him over, and then seemed to find what she was searching for and dragged him towards the wall. He was dead sure there hadn't been anything there when they'd walked past a second ago, but now there was a door, which Hermione opened and dragged him through.  
  
She shut the door, and leaned against it, listening to Filch walking down the corridor, still talking to Mrs Norris. He was approaching the door, and they could hear him muttering under his breath, sounding very much like someone who belonged in St. Mungo's Mental Health Department.  
  
"This isn't a door I recognize. Shall we investigate, my sweet? No, it's locked." He said as he rattled the doorknob, but the door didn't budge.  
  
He walked away, and as soon as his footsteps had faded away, Hermione tried to open the door, but it didn't move. She pulled out her wand and whispered ´Alohomora´, but nothing happened. Glancing at Blaise, she tired to open the door again. Nothing happened.  
  
Growing a little bit hysterical, she rattled the doorknob, not caring that it didn't work, until a hand covered hers. She looked up and met Blaise's blue eyes. He shook his head, so his black hair fell into his eyes.  
  
"Don't. He might hear you." He whispered.  
  
"Damn. Why do things like this always happen to me?" Hermione sighed, leaning against the door, and in doing so, she accidentally made the Invisibility Cloak slip down from their shoulder and land on the floor.  
  
Blaise looked at it, and bent down to pick it up. He held the shimmering fabric in his hands, inspecting it closely. He glanced at her, holding it out with one hand. She looked back, head to one side, waiting for him to ask his questions.  
  
"What is this?" He asked eventually, when he grew tired of waiting for her to say something.  
  
"Invisibility Cloak." She answered, and seeing his expression, she added, "Don't ask."  
  
Blinking, clearly surprised that she had something that expensive, but deciding not to pursue the subject, he dropped the Cloak again, an moved forward to check if he could open the door. He couldn't. No unlocking spells or charms worked, nor did the attempt to open it with a safety pin, a skill that made Hermione wonder what he did in his spare time.  
  
After a while, he gave up, threw away the safety pin with an angry expression on his face, and sat down, leaning against the wall. Hermione followed suit, looking at him curiously; she had never paid that much attention to him before, since he always seemed to keep to himself.  
  
"We are stuck here until someone starts to miss us." She said what he had been reluctant to utter.  
  
He shook his head again, glaring at the walls, running his hands through his hair.  
  
"Fuck." He spat.  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow when he followed up with a stream of muttered curses, in something that sounded like French. She wasn't sure; she didn't speak it herself, but she had heard it spoken enough times to recognize it.  
  
"Could I borrow that?" She asked, pointing to the copy of Hogwarts, A History, which he still had clutched under his arm.  
  
He stared at her for a moment, but then handed her the book. She took it and started looking for any mention of this room, listening to Blaise's swearing. She bit back a smile when he switched to English again, and started on the more obscene curse words, but didn't turn her eyes from the book.  
  
She knew she should know about this room, but she couldn't remember what it was. She'd been here before, but she'd forgotten why. But she had a nagging feeling that it was important. She turned a page, and her eyes fell on a paragraph describing the Room of Requirement. Suddenly, she remembered; this was where the DA meetings had been held. She shut the book again.  
  
"I've got some good news, and I've got some bad news." She began.  
  
Blaise raised his head, momentarily stopping his tirade to listen.  
  
"The good news is; I know where we are. I also know how we'll get out of here. The bad news is; the door won't open until four in the morning, when Filch's rounds end." She explained, fingering her wand in case Blaise got angry.  
  
He did get angry. He stared at her speechlessly, and then ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself. He pulled out a pocket watch from his pocket and looked at it.  
  
"So you are saying I am stuck in here with you, for four bloody hours?" He asked, fighting to keep himself calm.  
  
"It appears so." She shrugged.  
  
"Great. This is just great." He said, throwing up his hands in despair. "I'm stuck in a fucking closet with a ruddy Gryffindor! Why couldn't I have been lucky just for one time, and got stuck with a Ravenclaw?" He was talking to the ceiling now, apparently desperate.  
  
"I always knew Slytherins were a little different, but I had no clue that they were stark raving mad. Why are you talking to the ceiling?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Oh yeah? Well deep down, everyone's a Slytherin. The Slytherins just happen to be better at it than the other houses." Blaise shot back.  
  
"Everyone's a Slytherin? Do you realize you just insulted yourself?" Hermione wondered, amused.  
  
"You say Slytherin like it's a bad thing. If I was given the choice between Slytherin and Gryffindor, I'd go with Slytherin any day. At least we don't have that suicidal hero-complex." Blaise sneered.  
  
"At least we Gryffindor's don't plot ourselves into an early grave." Hermione snapped.  
  
"Of course you don't; Gryffindor's couldn't plot their way out of a wet cardboard box!"  
  
"We don't get stabbed in the back by our house-mates, either." Hermione changed the subject, but only slightly.  
  
"We don't expect our house-mates to commit suicide for us." Blaise retorted, referring to the Gryffindor habit of sacrificing themselves for the greater good.  
  
"We don't either. I can't stop a bunch of idiots from committing suicide, now can I?" Hermione spit out, angry at him for being reminded of the death of several people she knew.  
  
"So you admit you're idiots?" Blaise raised an eyebrow.  
  
"No, I admit that they are idiots. I'm smart." Hermione retorted, actually beginning to enjoy herself.  
  
"You're smart? Mhm, and that's why we're stuck in a closet." Blaise nodded sarcastically.  
  
"Hey, it's not a closet; it's the Room of Requirement! And if you hadn't been stupid enough to nearly be caught by Filch, we wouldn't be here!"  
  
"Me? Stupid? You were the one who tackled me and pinned me to the wall! Seriously, if you wanted me so damn much, you could just have asked, you know." Blaise smirked.  
  
"If I ever lost my mind to the degree that I even thought about wanting you, I would have shut myself into St. Mungo's, believe you me. As for tackling you; no one deserves detention with Filch. Not even Malfoy." Hermione snorted.  
  
"I could think of a few people who deserve detention with Filch. Whoever thought hiding in the room was a good idea sounds like worthy candidate." Blaise glanced at her.  
  
"Jeesh; I get you out from under Flich's nose, I save you from getting detention, and get you out of loosing several points from Slytherin; what the hell do you want me to do?" She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Apologizing for forcing me to stand your company for four damn hours would be a good start." Blaise said, sounding hopeful.  
  
"In your dreams, boy."  
  
"I hate to disappoint you, but I don't dream of you." Blaise said, shaking his head.  
  
"Thank god for that; if you had, you'd have given me nightmares." Hermione shuddered.  
  
"My mission in life." Blaise said, sarcasm dripping off his tone, "I live only to give you nightmares."  
  
"Gee, get sarcastic much?" She asked, smiling slightly.  
  
"No, you think?" He retorted, smiling as well, but trying to hide it.  
  
"That is an activity to which I sometimes put my brain, that's right. Not that you'd know much about it." She bit back.  
  
"Only sometimes? I knew there was something strange about you. I wonder how you passed your tests if you if only think sometimes." He teased.  
  
"It amazes me that you actually have enough brain capacity to wonder about anything." She glanced at him, before turning to look at the door again.  
  
"Contrary to popular belief, you aren't the only one in the castle with a brain you know." He ran a hand through his hair.  
  
"If that's true, you hide it damn well." Hermione couldn't help grinning.  
  
The truth was she was enjoying herself immensely, even though she was stuck in a closet with a Slytherin. She didn't show it much, but she had a sarcastic sense of humour; a good insult could make her laugh just as much as a joke could. In fact, that was why she always tried to keep a low profile in Potions Class; Snape actually had a sense of humour, but he hid it well, by insulting and degrading those around him, which was his way of being funny.  
  
"Oh, we are very good actors, didn't you know?" Blaise said airily.  
  
"You must be; no one can be that stupid."  
  
"I resent that; Crabbe and Goyle can be that stupid." Blaise sniffed.  
  
"I didn't believe it was possible to have IQ in negatives, but those two have proved me wrong." Hermione shrugged.  
  
"It isn't possible to have n IQ in negatives; Crabbe and Goyle's joint IQ reaches an impressive three." Blaise smirked.  
  
"Really? I never thought they'd get over two, myself." Hermione said. "I bet their mother's are proud."  
  
"They must be; it's a great achievement for the two of them." Blaise snorted again, holding back laughter.  
  
"Oh, yes. How many O.W.L's did they get again? One? Two?" She asked, secretly enjoying that she'd gotten him to nearly laugh.  
  
"I asked them about it, but they said they couldn't count that high." Blaise said.  
  
"That's no guarantee; they can't count farther than two without getting lost." She shot back.  
  
This time, Blaise did laugh. Only shortly, but it was a laugh, and Hermione felt like jumping up and down in glee, since she had finally gotten one of the Slytherins to laugh with her, and not at her. Sitting on the floor of the Room of Requirement, shooting insults back and forth with the most secretive member of the Slytherin House, she was enjoying herself a lot more than she had done in several weeks.  
  
*****'  
  
They had been shooting insults at each other for quite some time when Blaise pulled out his pocket watch again, to check the time. He put it in his pocket again with a grin, and looked at Hermione, who was still sitting against the opposite wall.  
  
"Time's up, I'm afraid. Check the door, would you?" He asked.  
  
"Do I look like a House Elf to you?" She retorted, but checked the door.  
  
"No, you're too short." He said seriously.  
  
"Oh, shut up, will you?" She asked, grumbling, but smiled as the door opened. "Now, come on, Filch's rounds are over, but Snape will begin his rounds in half an hour, and I would very much like to be in my dorm by then." She picked up the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over the two of them.  
  
He chuckled, but followed her out the door. She once again grabbed his sleeve and dragged him towards the dungeons. Soon they were standing outside the Slytherin Common Room and he raised and eyebrow at her.  
  
"How, exactly, do you know where the Slytherin Common Room is?" He asked.  
  
She smiled at him, and winked.  
  
"You didn't think this was the first time I'm out after curfew, did you? Besides, a girl's gotta have some secrets." She said, before disappearing under the Cloak, leaving him seemingly alone in a deserted hallway.  
  
"Strange, that one is." He mumbled, before turning to the wall and saying the password. "Draco Dormiens."  
  
The wall swung open and revealed the Common Room. Blaise stepped inside and the wall closed again. He didn't realize that Hermione was still in the corridor, and had just learned the Slytherin password. She grinned to herself and started up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower. That password might come in handy one day.  
  
******'  
  
Ending Notes; someone asked for a longer Blaise/Hermione fic. This is what I came up with; it will be multi-chapter, but I have another story to finish first. 


	2. Outburst

Here on popular demand; chapter two. The trouble with writing fanfiction is that you get new ideas halfway through and want to start writing them immediately. That happened while I was writing Heart of the Wolf, it happened during Unbroken Curses, and it's happened again. However, I will finish Unbroken Curses, with sporadic updates on Silent Snake. When I'm done with UC, I'll concentrate on SS with sporadic updates on the next fic that pops into my mind.  
  
Hopefully you'll understand that I can't update both fics equally fast. I will, however, try to update as fast as I can. I can't promise I will, but I'll try. Oh, and someone asked where I'd gotten the Slytherin password in the last chapter; I got it from Hogwarts motto, it's the first two words. Not very complicated, or original for that matter, but I like it.  
  
******'  
  
The bowl of porridge looked like a very inviting pillow. In fact, everything that didn't move looked like an inviting pillow right now. Correction; everything that was soft enough not to knock her out looked like a good pillow. Hermione had never been so tired in her life. Staying up to the wee hours of the morning, four of those hours spent with a sarcastic Slytherin, was definitely not a good idea.  
  
She'd gotten back to the Gryffindor Tower at half past four in the morning, and had gone to bed immediately, but hadn't fallen asleep until sometime after five, and since she got up at a quarter to six at school days, that meant that she had had forty minutes of sleep the entire night. She'd been snapping at everyone to leave her alone since she got up, and was currently trying very hard not to fall face-first into her porridge bowl at breakfast.  
  
The thing that annoyed her most wasn't the fact that she'd been stuck for four hours in the Room of Requirement, or even that she had to pinch herself regularly just to stay awake. It was Blaise Zabini who bothered her the most; she'd seen him when she came into the Great Hall, and he'd been looking annoyingly awake and bright, in the possible way a Slytherin could be classified under the term bright-and-happy.  
  
After that, she'd growled at her fellow Gryffindors and sat down to start dreading the first lesson; Double Potions with the Slytherins, which didn't do anything to lighten her mood. She'd be in the same room as Blaise-bloody- Zabini, and on top of that, she'd be in Snape's class, which was definitely not the class you wanted to fall asleep in, whether by accident or not.  
  
Harry and Ron helped keep her awake by occasionally flinging questions at her, and she was grateful for their efforts, but all she wanted right now was to go back to sleep. She broke out of her contemplations of using the porridge as a pillow when Harry tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
"What?" She grumbled.  
  
"Potions, Hermione, it starts soon." He reminded her.  
  
She nodded and retrieved her book-bag, following her two best friends out of the Great Hall and down the stairs to the dungeons. The cool air down there worked to wake her up, but only a minute or so had passed when she felt the drowsiness creep over her again.  
  
They silently trooped into the Potions classroom and sat down in their usual seats, Hermione in the middle, Harry to the left and Ron to the right. Soon, other Gryffindors joined them; Slytherins were always fashionably late. Hermione kept her eyes at the textbook in front of her, ignoring everyone. After a while, the Slytherins, both Head and students, came in, and the lesson began.  
  
*****'  
  
They had been asked to write essays till today's lesson, and Draco Malfoy was sent around to gather them up and bring them to Snape. He snatched Hermione's parchment roll with a sneer, which she answered with a scowl of her own, and he then proceeded to ´accidentally´ drop her roll on the floor, and moved on.  
  
Blaise glanced at her across the desks, and leaned down and picked the parchment up. He raised an eyebrow at her when he sat up again, and she scowled at him. He nodded, shot her a small smirk, which was probably the Slytherin version of a smile, and looked over at Malfoy.  
  
"Draco!" He called.  
  
Malfoy turned around, and raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You dropped this." Blaise said, tossing him the essay across the classroom.  
  
Malfoy scowled, but had no option than to catch it and hand it in; he couldn't very well drop it again when the whole class was watching. This was exactly what Blaise had planned, but he knew better than to show it. And he knew better than to show Draco Malfoy that he knew it was Hermione Granger's essay.  
  
When Draco returned to sit down next to him, he scowled again, and leaned across the desks.  
  
"That was Granger's essay, Blaise." The blond boy growled.  
  
Blaise put on an expression of surprise, which was fake through and through, and feigned irritation.  
  
"Damn. Was it? I thought it was Millicent's." He said, trying to sound not too interested, nor too indifferent.  
  
Hiding things from fellow Slytherins was an activity even the House's first- years had to learn quickly, and over the years, he'd become one of the best at it. He could deceive even Snape if he tired hard enough, and that's saying something. Outsmarting Seventh-years was easy by comparison; Snape had a nasty habit of knowing what you were thinking before you thought it.  
  
Since they weren't actually brewing a potion today, he went back to reading through his textbook, and noting down the more significant things on a parchment scroll. A busy silence descended over the room, since no one, not even Slytherins, would speak unless spoken to in the Potions classroom. The only sounds were the rasp of quills, the crackling of parchment and the soft breathing of the dungeons occupants. It was, all in all, an unusually peaceful lesson.  
  
******'  
  
It was lunch time, and Hermione had escaped to the library as soon as she could. She wanted to get away from Harry and Ron, who were questioning her about why she'd been out so late last night, and besides, she needed to study for her N.E.W.T's. She was reading a book on complicated healing potions, curled up in a chair at the very back of the library, still struggling to keep her eyes open.  
  
Someone, an annoyingly happy someone, sat down in the chair across from her. She looked up and growled ad Blaise, who seemed astonishingly cheerful for someone who had only gotten about an hour of sleep. He was reading a thin green volume with golden letters across the cover, spelling out ´Hélas, j´ai Transfiguré mes Pieds´, and the book was written by one Malecrit.  
  
"Had lunch yet?" He asked brightly.  
  
"No; I didn't want to fall asleep in the damn food." She snapped, sounding extremely tired, even to her own ears.  
  
"Now that would have been something worth watching." Blaise smirked.  
  
"Shut up you." She snarled, "Thanks for helping with the essay." She switched subjects.  
  
"Eh? Oh, that. It's alright." He shrugged.  
  
She nodded and went back to trying to read and sleep at the same time. She was succeeding, for the moment at least, in actually seeing the words on the page, while at the same time catching up a little on the sleep she'd been missing out on last night.  
  
They sat in silence, reading quietly, more or less ignoring each others presence completely. Neither noticed that lunch was long since over, but since Hermione had a free hour afterwards, it didn't really matter. However, about half an hour after lunch ended, they were interrupted. By Draco Malfoy, who came sweeping into the library as if he owned it.  
  
"Blaise!" He snapped, "You're half an hour late for the Arithmancy lesson."  
  
Blaise looked up, and raised an eyebrow. He put the book on the table and stood up, facing him.  
  
"I got caught up in my book." He shrugged.  
  
Draco however, wasn't listening. He had spotted Hermione, and put on his best sneer.  
  
"What're you doing here, Mudblood? Trying to find a way to cheat on your tests? It would be like you; no one can get those good grades without cheating, or something else. Tell me, Mudblood, did you ever offer yourself?" He asked, trying to sound as insulting as he could, and succeeding, making even Blaise flinch.  
  
Hermione literally saw red; she slammed down her book on the table, stood up so fast that the chair fell over, and grabbed hold of Malfoy's tie, nearly choking him in the process.  
  
"Listen here, Malfoy. I'm sick and tired of your insinuations, and that last comment was beneath even you. It has never even crossed my mind to do anything like that, and even if it did, I sure as hell wouldn't do it. And Malfoy, if I ever hear you call me ´Mudblood´ again, I'll make sure only your dentist will be able to identify your body." She growled.  
  
"Let go, dammit!" Malfoy struggled to get away from her, "Blaise, aren't you going to help me?" He asked desperately.  
  
Blaise just looked at him, and then to Hermione, and shrugged indifferently.  
  
"What can I say, Draco? When she's right, she's right; that was a low blow." He said. "Now come on, we've got an Arithmancy lesson to attend to." He took hold of Malfoy's shoulder and dragged him out of the library.  
  
He risked a wink over his shoulder at Hermione; before he had his rather shocked house-mate disappeared through the doors. Hermione slumped back in her seat, not knowing whether to laugh at Blaise's save, or cry at Malfoy's insinuations. Resolving to go back to the Gryffindor Common Room, and continue reading there, she checked out the book and walked off.  
  
******'  
  
Blaise tried to ignore Draco's suspicious glances as they made their way to Professor Vector's classroom, while reading through his homework, to see if he had done anything wrong. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut in the library, but his temper had gotten the better of him and he'd just lashed out. Of course he would have one hell of a time getting out if it now, since he didn't want to call Hermione Granger ´Mudblood´ under any circumstances, mainly because he never used the word since his parents had been rather Muggle-tolerant, but he'd manage somehow.  
  
"What the hell did you just do, Blaise? Did you defend the Mudblood Gryffindor?" Draco asked after a while.  
  
"I didn't defend her, Draco; I merely stated facts; it was a low blow, even for being you." Blaise shrugged, but he knew he'd have to do better than that.  
  
"It was not! It was justified; no Mudblood should have better grades than Pureblood wizards! She must be doing something to raise them higher!" Draco snapped back.  
  
Once again, Blaise lost his temper, and since there was no librarian in the vicinity to throw him out for being too loud, he didn't even try to keep his voice down.  
  
"For the love of god, Draco; you were just short of accusing her of sleeping to Snape! I don't know about you, but I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy; she studies, Draco, she studies, and that's all I do, and if you've failed to notice, I'm the second best in our year, with her being the first!" Blaise almost, but not quite, shouted at him. "I don't care if she's your enemy, I don't care if she's Gryffindor; there are some things you just don't say, and that was one of them!"  
  
"But that Mudblood -"Draco started, clearly bewildered.  
  
"Don't! Just don't, alright? My sister is married to a Muggle, so by saying that word, you're insulting my niece and nephew, and I don't want to hear you say things like that, alright?" Blaise said, calmer now, but still angry.  
  
"Sorry, I didn't think -"Draco said, once again interrupted by Blaise.  
  
"It's clear you didn't, just don't do it again. Let's go to Arithmancy." Blaise didn't look at him.  
  
Draco's words had angered him; he'd never called anyone Mudblood, not even before his sister had married, his parents had been very much against Voldemort, no matter how much they were Slytherin. But that wasn't what had angered him the most; it was the fact that the words had been directed at Hermione Granger.  
  
Draco didn't have a right to talk about her like that; he didn't know anything about her. Granted, neither did he, but at least he knew more than Draco, and that gave him a right to be offended, or at least that's what he told himself. He should be the only one allowed to insult her; and he felt vaguely offended when someone else, like Draco, did. None of it was reasonable, but he didn't feel like being reasonable right now.  
  
*****'  
  
Hermione didn't know how she got through that day, but when she finally collapsed into bed, she fell asleep instantly. Her friends knew better than to disturb her sleep, since she had been horrible enough while awake; if they woke her up from her much wanted and needed sleep, she'd hex them six ways to hell.  
  
The day had been confusing to say the least; she'd been defended from Malfoy, by Blaise, a Slytherin himself. She'd heard rumours that Blaise had had a shouting match with Malfoy not long afterwards, and that Malfoy seemed to act a bit better after that. She'd been surprised, of course, and couldn't help but wonder if she had anything to do with that conversation.  
  
It was amazing how barely four hours in the company of Blaise Zabini could change her outlook on Slytherins in general and Blaise in particular. She found herself tolerating Slytherins more than she used to, but Draco Malfoy was an exception to that rule, and a big one; she had a feeling she'd always dislike him to some degree.  
  
Blaise was different, somehow. She didn't delude herself into thinking that he was nice, not by any stretch of imagination, but he seemed a little more approachable than the rest of his house. Not that that was hard or anything; a Slytherin was more likely to hex someone's head off than speak to them.  
  
Blaise wasn't nice; he was a sarcastic bastard who was too smart for his own good, and he seemed to enjoy insulting people, just because he thought it was funny. None of that qualified as ´nice´, but she found herself enjoying listening to his little insults, and finding them funny, to some extent. It was strange and probably wrong of her, but for the moment, she didn't care, and she doubted she ever would.  
  
She'd never told anyone, but the Sorting Hat had had a hard time Sorting her. The choice had stood between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, but for a moment, it had said she might do well in Slytherin if she'd been Pureblood. She'd been ignoring that thought for almost seven years now, but suddenly, it seemed appropriate. It would have been more fun, anyway; Gryffindors had a rather shallow sense of humour.  
  
She'd always felt like the odd one out, even after becoming friends with Harry and Ron; they were the perfect Gryffindors; breaking rules with no fear of getting caught, always ready to take responsibility for others, and always telling the truth. She wasn't like that; she more often than not planned her after-curfew excursions, so that she wouldn't get caught, she took responsibility for others, but felt they could take it themselves, and she'd been known to lie more than average, sometimes just to save herself and sometimes to save others.  
  
Granted, Harry and Ron had lied, but in the strictly Gryffindor way, i.e.; not getting away with it. She'd almost always gotten away with her lies. And strangely enough, it made her proud; she'd always been the know-it-all, always there to tie up the loose ends and make sure they weren't caught. Now she finally had something she didn't have to share with Harry and Ron.  
  
She snuggled closer to her pillow, and smiled in her sleep. Any discoveries could wait until tomorrow.  
  
*****'  
  
Draco had been very quiet since Blaise's outburst, and was sitting in a corner, apparently sulking about something. Blaise watched him, but returned to his book as soon as he had made sure the blond boy wouldn't do anything drastic.  
  
He hadn't seen Hermione since the library incident, but he didn't doubt she was upset about Draco's behaviour. He resolved to go and talk to her about her when he got the chance; he'd explain that he'd talked to Draco, and that if Draco ever did anything of the sort again, he'd rip him apart.  
  
He caught himself just after he'd thought it; he couldn't do that, it would sound too protective, and more than a little wrong. He'd have to phrase it differently, but he'd make sure Draco didn't do anything like that again. He didn't like to admit it, but Draco's choice of words had unnerved him; hopefully, the boy would think twice before using that word again.  
  
He snapped his book shut, startling Draco, who looked up, and walked up to his dormitory. There, he lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. A lot had happened over the last twenty-four hours, and he needed some time to sort it out.  
  
Apparently, he had gained a new not friend, precisely, but at least someone of the Gryffindor House who wouldn't kill him on sight. That was a very rare thing indeed, when one was a Slytherin. And Hermione Granger wasn't the sort of Gryffindor who was usually accepting of Slytherins, which just made it a bigger victory. Not that he cared all that much; it would be nice to have her on his side, should she ever get angry, but if she wasn't, well, where's the loss?  
  
He rolled over, and stared at the floor instead. Maybe it would be a loss. But they couldn't exactly be friends now could they? She had Potter and Weasley, who resented Slytherin students more than anything and besides, one conversation didn't prove anything. It hadn't even been a very civil conversation; they had been insulting each other, stopping only to catch their breath.  
  
No, he'd have to sort it out tomorrow. Generally, things like this wasn't very much trouble.  
  
******'  
  
Ending Notes; hope you like it. I'll get whatever resemblance of a plot there is going in the next chapter. (probably). Well, R&R, peeps. 


	3. Christmas Gifts and Long Explanations

After many, many, many, MANY days, a new chapter. I'm sorry it took so long, but I was writing a few other stories, as well as a new chapter for Unbroken Curses.  
  
*****'  
  
A few days went by, and Draco seemed to have learned something, since he didn't call the Muggleborns names nearly as often as he used to. Blaise was satisfied that he had learned his lesson, and didn't say anything more on the matter, and instead concentrated on his studies. The Christmas break was approaching, and the professors seemed to heap even more work on them than usual, as if they would forget everything they learned over the break.  
  
Three days before he was going home for Christmas, Blaise ventured into the library again, in daylight this time. He was returning a few of the books that he had checked out on earlier occasions, and since Madame Pince had a lot to do with all other students returning books, she sent him out with directions to which shelf to put them on.  
  
Therefore, he happened to be wondering around the shelves when he overheard Hermione talking to Potter and Weasley. He put ´The Life and Habits of Caradoc Dearborn´ back on the shelf and started eavesdropping.  
  
"Come on, Hermione, it's only three days till Christmas break, please get out of the library?" Weasley pleaded.  
  
"No, Ron I've got things I have to finish." Hermione explained patiently.  
  
"Please? Just his once?" Potter asked.  
  
Blaise smirked and moved around the shelf to where the three of them were standing, still trying to balance a rather high stack of books in his arms. As he had expected, Potter and Weasley were standing on each side of Hermione's chair, trying to cajole her into coming with them to do god knows what. She looked desperate, but somewhat resigned, as if she had already given herself up to whatever fate was awaiting her.  
  
Without further ado, he dropped all the books on the table where she was sitting, and they landed with a satisfying resounding thud. Potter, Weasley and Hermione jumped, but when they saw who he was, Hermione relaxed again, and only raised an eyebrow. Potter and Weasley however, bristled angrily, as if expecting him to jump at them with his wand drawn.  
  
He nodded at them, and picked up on of the books, starting to look for where he should place it. He put it on the correct shelf and turned back to the table, where he noticed that Potter and Weasley were still staring at him.  
  
"What is it?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"What're you doing?" Weasley demanded.  
  
"Returning books. What does it look like I am doing?" Blaise forced himself not to be too sarcastic, since Weasley had a notoriously hot temper and packed a mean punch.  
  
"That's not what I meant; what the hell are you doing here, at this table." Weasley emphasised.  
  
"Ron." Hermione began.  
  
"No, I believe I owe him an answer." Blaise held up his hand to stop her. "Weasley, as I told you, I am returning books, and since most of the books that I am returning is supposed to be shelved in this section of the library, I came here. I put the books on this table, since there is no other table in the vicinity, and Madame Pince would send me to the infirmary in a matchbox if I even contemplated the option of putting the books on the floor, however temporary. And seeing as she," He gestured to Hermione, "is a sensible person when it comes to books, I fail to see why she should protest against me using this particular table."  
  
"I don't care what she thinks, I want you gone!" Weasley not-quite-shouted.  
  
Blaise graciously ignored him and turned back to his books. Hermione, he noticed, was looking faintly annoyed at her redheaded companion's exclamation. When Weasley stepped around the table and grabbed him by his lapels, however, he could no longer ignore him. He raised an eyebrow at the redhead, still holding onto one of the books.  
  
He was taller than Weasley, by a good few inches, and could therefore undisturbed look down on him. He raised his eyebrow again, knowing that it would infuriate not only Weasley, but Potter too, and he couldn't resist the urge to live dangerously for the moment.  
  
"You don't care what I think, do you, Ronald Weasley?" Hermione interrupted his train of thought, her voice sounding absolutely lethal.  
  
He smiled; he wouldn't want to be in Weasley's shoes right now. Weasley looked nervous and his gaze flickered to his fellow Gryffindor uncertainly.  
  
"I, uh, I didn't mean that they way it came out, Hermione; I'm just worried about you, that's all." Weasley said.  
  
"So you think I can't take care of myself either?" Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously.  
  
"Yes, er, I mean no, of course not." Weasley started, but was interrupted by Potter.  
  
"He didn't mean it, Hermione. He's just being an overprotective older- brother today; he gave Ginny a lecture about brushing her teeth this morning. Come on, Ron; Hermione can join us later if she's got things to do." Potter said, and Blaise noticed he seemed amused at his friends.  
  
Potter probably had to do these things all the time, considering how often Hermione and Weasley argued. However, his prime concern for the moment was that Weasley still hadn't let go of his lapels, and he was feeling decidedly uncomfortable.  
  
"Weasley, if you would." He gestured to his shirt.  
  
Weasley dropped his lapels and followed Potter out of the library, but not before sending him and ´you-better-be-careful´ look, which made him suppress a chuckle which threatened to escape.  
  
"Protective bastard, isn't he?" Blaise ventured while he continued sorting through the books.  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she looked up from her book, and watched as he stuffed a heavy volume into an already overstuffed shelf.  
  
"Protective, yes, bastard, no; his parents were firmly married when he was born." She said.  
  
Blaise snorted as if to disregard her comment and started picking through the pile that Draco had heaped on him before he left for the library.  
  
"I was referring to his personality, not his parentage." He said.  
  
"Shut up." Hermione suggested, scowling.  
  
"That was an exceptionally lame comeback, even for being you, Hermione." He commented, "Hey, would you look at this; I don't even want to know what Draco used this book for."  
  
He held up a thin volume with the words ´Why I Like To Do It With Girls´ printed on the red cover. Hermione scowled and turned a page in her book.  
  
"Since when do you call me Hermione, Baldrick?" She snapped back.  
  
"Since I got stuck with you for four hours in a bloody closet." He smirked, ignoring her choice of name for him.  
  
"And I'm supposed to call you Blaise then?" She asked.  
  
He honestly hadn't meant to call her by first name, it had just slipped out, but not it felt right to do so. He smirked; if the Slytherins could hear him now, bantering easily with a Gryffindor, they would carry him off to St Mungo's.  
  
"As long as you don't call me Baldrick or whatever it was." Blaise shrugged, when he found he didn't really mind. "Where did that come from anyway?"  
  
"Obscure Muggle reference." Hermione shrugged.  
  
"If you're sure." He replied indifferently and went back to his books.  
  
"Of course I'm sure; I'm Muggleborn you twit." She muttered before turning a page again.  
  
The aisle was silent for the better part of the hour it took him to put all the books on the correct shelves, and there was an odd sense of peace that not even the sudden appearance of Mrs Norris could disturb.  
  
*****'  
  
Harry and Ron had finally gotten her out of the library and even to join them in their annual snowball fight. She was going home from Christmas, while the boys were staying, and she wanted to make the most of her last days at Hogwarts.  
  
When the last day came, Hermione was sitting between her two best friends, laughing and exchanging gifts that they swore not to open until Christmas Eve. They did this every year, unless they were all staying at the Burrow, where they would exchange Christmas gifts on the actual day.  
  
"Hope you like the present, Hermione." Ron said, grinning.  
  
"Oh, I'm sure I will; I wonder what bookstore it is this time." She grinned back, and Ron and Harry looked slightly guilty; for the last two years, they'd gotten her a buy-what-you-want card, filled with whatever money they could spare.  
  
Harry was about to say something, but closed his mouth again when he looked over Hermione's shoulder. In fact, all Gryffindors fell silent as they looked behind Hermione. She looked at them in askance, but since none of them said anything, she turned around to see what had silenced them. And nearly fell out of her seat.  
  
Coming from the Slytherin table was Blaise Zabini, looking as if he walked up to the Gryffindor table every day, and that it was nothing unusual. In his hands were a wrapped package, about the length of his forearm, and a third as wide. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and he gave her an almost invisible wink. He sat down beside her on the small stretch of bench between her and Harry, making him nearly sit in her lap, and handed her the package, seemingly oblivious to the glares he was receiving from the surrounding students.  
  
She accepted the package with a raised eyebrow, and started tearing off the wrapping paper, after a questioning glance at him. He nodded, and soon she had torn all the wrapping paper off. Inside was a cardboard box, brown and very damp, but by some unforeseen miracle managing to hold together.  
  
"You got me a wet cardboard box, how sweet, and a very, very disturbing way." She said, looking at him uncertainly, when it hit her; she knew exactly where he'd gotten the idea. "Oh, wait. You have a very twisted sense of humour, don't you?"  
  
"Of course." He smirked and patted her on the head. "But I must be off; my parents are waiting."  
  
With that, he extracted himself from the in between the Gryffindors and headed towards the doors. Hermione scowled after him; box in her hands, slowly dripping water down on her sweater. Then, an evil grin seemed to take over her features and she turned to Harry, who shied back at her expression.  
  
"It's payback time." She announced, placing the box in her bag, as she pulled out a book and set off after Blaise.  
  
Harry and the other Gryffindors watched her go with a rising sense of horror. When Hermione had that expression, she was planning something that would turn out rather nasty for the receiving end of her plot.  
  
****'  
  
She caught up with Blaise out in the entrance hall; he was standing by the doors with a man that was unmistakably his father; the same slightly curly hair and the same intense blue eyes, although his father's hair was lighter than his own. They looked so much alike, although Blaise was taller than his father. They were just about to leave, so she sprinted across the hall.  
  
"Hey, Blaise, wait up!" She shouted.  
  
He turned around and spotted her, and cringed slightly; he seemed to know she'd be mad about the trick he pulled, but he stood his ground waiting for her with an eyebrow raised. She screeched to a sop in front of him, and he waited until she caught her breath, and then she pushed the book she was carrying into his hands.  
  
"Here you go." She said, still slightly breathless.  
  
He looked at her, and then down at the cover of the book. ´How To Untransfigure Your Feet; When Hexes Go Bad´ was written across the cover in neat green letters. He raised the other eyebrow. Why did she give him a book on Transfiguration? Wait; the book he'd read when she'd blown up and attacked Malfoy had a French title which translated into ´Alas, I have Transfigured my feet´ in English.  
  
"Alright, now I'm convinced you're a Slytherin in disguise." He told her, smirking.  
  
"Shh, don't tell them." She said, putting a hand over her lips and looking around her, "They'll never catch me alive!"  
  
She grinned insanely, and he took a step back, turning to his father but never looking away from her face, while wearing a rather hesitant smile.  
  
"Father, could you please owl St Mungo's and tell them one of the patients of their ward for the criminally insane has escaped." He said.  
  
"Hey, one good turn deserves another." Hermione grinned, and patted him on the head, something she had to stand on tip-toes to accomplish. "Have a nice Christmas."  
  
With that, she turned and walked off towards the Great Hall again, leaving the two of them behind. Blaise turned the book over in his hands, an actual smile creeping over his features.  
  
"Well, I'll be damned." He mumbled. "She actually had the guts to get me back."  
  
"Get you back on what?" His father asked.  
  
"A long story, Father, a long story. It all begins with the library." Blaise replied.  
  
"Well, she did say that one good turn deserves another, so what did you get her?" His father asked, interested.  
  
"A wet cardboard box," Blaise said, and marvelled at his own ability at keeping a straight face.  
  
"A wet cardboard box." His father repeated, "Blaise, you have a long, long way to go."  
  
"If you say so, father." Blaise smirked.  
  
And the two of them walked out the doors, Blaise clutching the book under his arm and looking rather amused. His father was shaking his head, looking as if he didn't know what to do with his son.  
  
******'  
  
Hermione sat down in her seat in the great hall, and grinned evilly; she knew Blaise would have a hard time explaining this one to his father. Hopefully, he'd even have to explain it twice, and that would make for a perfect revenge on a Slytherin, the masters of worming their way out of explanations.  
  
The Gryffindors were throwing her curious, and not a little apprehensive, looks, but she ignored them; they were no doubt speculating in whether or not Blaise was her boyfriend, which only proved how thick they really were. Had Blaise been her boyfriend, he would sure as hell not give her a wet cardboard box for Christmas, nor would she have told them that she was extracting revenge on him.  
  
"Hermione, what was that?" Ron asked hesitantly, as if he was afraid she might blow up.  
  
"What was what, Ron?" She shot back, playing oblivious.  
  
"What did that Slytherin do at our table?" He demanded.  
  
"He handed me a cardboard box, my Christmas present, which is as good a present as anyone can expect from him. I thought you were capable of vision with those eyes of yours. Didn't you see him?" She asked.  
  
"Of course I did, but that's not the point! Why the hell did he give you a present?" Ron was nearly shouting now.  
  
"Because he's an insufferable, sneaky, sarcastic bastard with a severely twisted sense of humour." Hermione smiled sweetly. "Now, with your curiosity satisfied, you can go back to your breakfast and eat in peace."  
  
Ron and Harry looked at her uncertainly, but did as she said because they knew how angry she would get if they pushed too far. And this was definitely one of those moments when they would do better to keep well away from her; else she'd snap and hex them.  
  
Hermione picked in her food, lost in thought. She was going back home today, to stay over Christmas. Two weeks without lessons. Two weeks before she could annoy the hell out of Blaise Zabini, as had been her practise over the last few days, again. In a way, she'd miss it. It was strange, she admitted that, but somehow, it had been fun to shoot her insults at him and know that he wouldn't be offended enough not to laugh.  
  
She smiled; maybe she'd owl him over the holidays with a long and detailed letter about nothing in particular, just to annoy him, asking about how his feet were doing. She'd never let him live that one down.  
  
*****'  
  
Ending Notes; it took a little longer than I thought is would, but I've been away, and I've got several other stories up and running too, so I had o choice but to put this one on a short hold. Don't worry though; I'm continuing this as fast as possible. 


	4. Declarations Of War

*sighs* It seems I've got a twisted sense of humour that no one understands. Alright, explanation time; the wet cardboard box. Remember when they were stuck in the Room of Requirement? He told her that Gryffindors couldn't plot their way out of a wet cardboard box. Ergo, Hermione's present.  
  
Moving onto the book. That one is explained in the chapter. I shall quote it word for word; ´Wait; the book he'd read when she'd blown up and attacked Malfoy had a French title which translated into ´Alas, I have Transfigured my feet´ in English´. She made a joke of that. Ergo, the title of the book.  
  
Now, since I've explained myself, and maybe a few of you understand, I'll move onto the story.  
  
******'  
  
The bags landed on the floor with a heavy thump, even though there wasn't much in them. Hermione stretched her arms over her head, yawning slightly; the trip to King's Cross had been tiring.  
  
"Mum, Dad, I'm home!" She called.  
  
The train had left Hogwarts just after breakfast, and she'd spent the hours the trip took planning ways to get revenge on Blaise. Thus far, she'd come up with twenty-something ways, including sending him and owl with a detailed account of her Christmas holidays and Transfigure his Slytherin tie onto the Gryffindor colours.  
  
Her mother stuck out her head from the kitchen and smiled when she spotted her daughter. Hermione took the last few steps towards her and hugged her tightly.  
  
"Hi Mum. It's so nice to be home again." She smiled.  
  
"It's nice to have you home, sunshine. Go on up to your room, I'll bring you bags up." Her mother replied.  
  
"Where's Dad?" Hermione queried, looking around the kitchen, which was where her father was more often than not found.  
  
"Oh, he needed to pick something up before coming home." Her mother explained.  
  
"Alright." Hermione smiled and started up the stairs.  
  
However much she loved Hogwarts, it was always wonderful to come home again. And besides, she had much more privacy at home, which was good if she wanted to pull a few pranks on Blaise.  
  
She sat down at her desk, and pulling out a parchment and a quill, she began to write. If she wanted it to be long and detailed, she would have to start now.  
  
My Christmas holidays, by Hermione Granger  
  
Dedicated to Blaise ´Baldrick´ Zabini.  
  
She paused and looked down on her writing. Maybe calling him Bladrick was going a bit overboard, but the main objective of this little exercise was to annoy the hell out of him. She grinned evilly and launched into a horribly long and overly detailed account of her holidays.  
  
*******'  
  
Blaise plopped own in one of the chairs in his family's library, and closed his eyes. He was, frankly, exhausted. His father had been bothering him about Hermione every step of the way home, and it didn't look like he'd be let off the hook any time soon.  
  
And if his father was bad, his mother and sister would be infinitely worse. He cracked open one eye and peered at the book in his lap, the one Hermione had given him, and couldn't help but smile a little. She'd actually gone through all the trouble of translating the title of a book he'd been reading, and then given him a gift which made a joke of it, solely to annoy him. It was almost Slytherin that was.  
  
His train of thought was interrupted by a loud squeal and someone throwing their arms around him, nearly choking him in the process. He suffered through the rough treatment without a word, but when the same someone reached up to ruffle his hair, he decided he'd had enough.  
  
"Adéle! Don't do that!" He whined.  
  
"But little brother, it's so amusing to see you like that." Adéle chuckled. "Now tell me, what girl are you pining for now?"  
  
"One student from Hogwarts. A girl, I'm given to understand." Their father commented from the doorway, before passing it and heading towards the stairs.  
  
"Oooh! A girlfriend! Why haven't you told me about this earlier?" Adéle asked, eyes twinkling.  
  
Blaise glared at his nosy sister, and wished, not for the first time, that he was an only child. Then he wouldn't have obnoxious older sisters who didn't know when to keep their mouths shut.  
  
"Stop being ludicrous. She is not my girlfriend, nor has she ever been my girlfriend, and the possibility of her becoming my girlfriend is so small that you could use a Muggle microscope to look at it and still don't see it." He said slowly, as if talking to a child.  
  
"So you were thinking of her. Does this girl have a name?" Adéle sat down across from him, grinning.  
  
"If I tell you, will you go away?" Blaise asked desperately.  
  
"I'll think about it." His sister promised.  
  
"Alright; Hermione Granger. There, now you can leave me alone; I've got revenge-plotting to do." He said, turning to look at the book in his lap.  
  
"Revenge-plotting? Blaise, what did the poor girl do?" She asked, still smiling.  
  
Blaise ignored her and started flipping through the book. He was getting Hermione back for that one, he would have the last word, if he so had to sell off the family estate to do it. There was no way he was letting a Gryffindor win over him. He'd get his revenge; that he swore on his Slytherin pride.  
  
******'  
  
The library was, by far, his favourite place, but the dining room wasn't far behind. History of Magic was his favourite subject at school, despite Binns, and in the dining room, history was thick enough to cut with a knife.  
  
Ever since he was a child, he'd been fascinated by history, mainly because of his home. The estate was filled, floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, with nothing but history. Some of the portraits on the walls were of wizards' further back than Merlin, many of whom were in his family tree.  
  
A family tradition was to have breakfast together at the first day of Christmas break, and today was no different. He was sitting in between his sister and his nephew, with his mother across from him. His father was next to her, while his niece and his sister's husband, Bastien, were seated on his sisters other side.  
  
He was just picking through his scrambled eggs, refusing to look at his sister, when an owl came swooping in through a window. Blaise looked up along with the rest of his family, and stared confusedly at the white owl.  
  
It flew over to Blaise, hovered for just a second before dropping a very thick letter in his lap. It the n took off again, but landed on one of the stuffed animal's heads that were hanging on the walls.  
  
Blaise stared suspiciously at the heavy envelope in his lap, and then looked at the bird. There was something familiar about it..  
  
"Potter's owl? What the heck is Potter's owl doing here?" He asked no one in particular.  
  
He tested the envelope for hexes or curses before finally opening it. Inside was a letter which spanned over several sheets of parchment, written in a neat, precise script with dark blue ink. He read the title of it, and set his jaw.  
  
"She's going down." He announced, before standing up abruptly and nearly knocking over his chair.  
  
His sister took advantage of his distraction to pinch the letter and read the title. She giggled. And grinned, scant seconds away from laughing out loud. Blaise glared at her, and snatched the letter back.  
  
"Don't." He hissed.  
  
"She wrote to you? And not just a letter; it's a freaking novel!" She couldn't help herself; she laughed.  
  
"Language, Adéle." Her mother warned.  
  
"I'm sorry mother, but it was just so amusing." Adéle said, fighting to keep a straight face.  
  
"I'm leaving." Blaise said and walked out of the dining room.  
  
"But Blaise, you haven't finished your breakfast." His mother called after him.  
  
He ignored her and kept on walking. Not only had she owled him a veritable essay about her Christmas holidays, she had dared to address him as Baldrick. He had to find out where she'd gotten that, and he was going to write back. He was going to employ every dirty trick in the book, and she was going down.  
  
******'  
  
Hermione stared at the letter in her hands, and promptly burst out laughing. Her parents gave her surprised and curious looks, wondering what could possibly be so funny. Hedwig had just delivered the letter, and Hermione had read through the short note.  
  
Dear Pest.  
  
Thank you the letter *cough*book*cough*. I appreciated it very much. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? It was highly annoying, and I would thank you ever so much if you never wrote to me again.  
  
I realize it was part of your plan to annoy the hell out of me. Please abandon this futile attempt; I will win this game.  
  
And never, ever call me Baldrick again. Ever.  
  
Blaise.  
  
"Hermione, what is so funny?" Her father asked.  
  
"It's nothing; just this letter. It's from someone I met at school." She explained. "Apparently, he wants to kill me off slowly, using something along the lines of boiling pitch and white-hot iron."  
  
"Hermione, dear, is this boy the one you've told us about? The Malfoy boy?" Her mother ventured.  
  
"Oh no. It isn't Malfoy at all; it's one of his House-mates. Don't worry though; I don't think he's serious." She grinned. "And even if he is, I'm getting him back; there's no way he's winning this game. "  
  
She got to her, feet and hugged her parents; she was going out, since she had some plotting to do, and she'd found that walking always helped her think. And she'd need a lot of help if she was going to beat a Slytherin at his own game.  
  
*****'  
  
The letters continued to pass between England and France, getting steadily more offending and insulting. It was all they could do until school started again; it's not very easy to kill someone per letter. Not that they didn't try.  
  
Various death-threats were exchanged, but never acted upon. Hermione's parents were growing rapidly more worried about the frequent letters their daughter was receiving, and how she laughed over the threats to kill her.  
  
Blaise was still being teased by is sister about Hermione, but he ignored her the best he could. Hedwig must have worn her feathers out flying back and forth that Christmas break, because the two of them wrote as soon as they could. Soon, Blaise's day seemed incomplete unless he had written and received a death-threat at least once.  
  
When school was about to start again, Blaise still hadn't figured out a way to get back at Hermione, and it didn't look like he would anytime soon. It annoyed him, but he shrugged it off, knowing that he'd get her back one way or the other.  
  
******'  
  
Hermione was standing with Harry, Ron and Ginny in the entrance hall, just talking about Christmas, waiting for the feast to begin. Dumbledore had announced that the first meal back from the Christmas holidays would be one, and that the Great Hall needed to be decorated before they could come in. Thus, their present location.  
  
Hermione was listening to Ron telling a joke about Fred and George, but noticed that he faltered slightly, looking over her shoulder. Curious, she turned to look as well, and saw Blaise walking up to them.  
  
He had yet to change into his school uniform, and was wearing a black shirt and jeans, and the wind had ruffled his hair. He looked, in one word, gorgeous. She blinked. That was definitely not what she was supposed to think. In fact, that was as far from appropriate thoughts she could get.  
  
"What do you want?" She asked, with emphasis on the ´you´.  
  
"I just wanted to thank you for writing me a book; it was like a lecture." He smirked.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes," He nodded, "Long, boring and a waste of time."  
  
"Really? Well, I would like to thank you for your adorable little letters; I didn't know you could kill someone in so many different ways." She smiled sweetly, inwardly a little stung at his words.  
  
Blaise's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stepped closer. He leaned down so far that their noses were almost touching, and glared at her. She glared back, defiantly, and tilted her head up so she could look him directly in the eyes.  
  
"This is war." He hissed.  
  
"No, this is slaughter." She hissed back. "And you are going to be a bloody smear at the foot of the Astronomy Tower before graduation."  
  
He smirked, and she glared at him again.  
  
"You really think you can win this? Stop deluding yourself; Slytherins always win. It will be fun watching you break." He raised an eyebrow, and smirked at her furious expression.  
  
Abruptly, almost making her stumble, he turned and walked away, leaving her to glare after him. Had he turned around, he might have seen her mouth something, but as he didn't, he missed her words, which could, or could not prove to be the biggest mistake he ever did.  
  
"Just you wait. Just you wait." Hermione whispered darkly.  
  
*******'  
  
Ending Notes; I am incredibly sorry for the super short chapter, but I'm going away for a week, and then there won't be as many updates because school starts, so I wanted to give you a new chapter in advance.  
  
And, before you ask, the Baldrick-thing has been taken from Blackadder. Just in case you missed it. 


	5. A Potions Accident of a Different Sort

I'm baaaaack! I've been away for a week, but I'm back, and I'm writing again. Hopefully, my chapters will be longer than the last one.  
  
I've gotten a few complaints that Hermione is OOC. This, my friends, is intentional. I want her to be OOC. This isn't one of he most serious stories I've ever written, since my insane sense of humour shines through every crack, so Hermione being OOC in this is just helping the plot. If it offends you, please don't read.  
  
******'  
  
Gryffindors are brave, heroic, noble minded, and so on and so forth. One of their lesser known traits is their ability to be extremely stubborn when the situation calls for it. And hat was a trait Hermione employed often during the ´war´ with Blaise Zabini.  
  
Blaise on the other hand, he did everything possible to make her look like a fool in front of everyone else, and he more often than not succeeded. However, Hermione wasn't far behind in embarrassing him, and Gryffindor and Slytherin lost more points during the ´war´ than they ever had before.  
  
Over the first week, the teachers began to notice, and tried to hand out detentions, but since neither of the two actually broke the rules, they couldn't. As long as insults didn't reach the level of words like Mudblood, they were no cause for detention, and sarcastic comments, however annoying, were not severe enough to warrant more than a few points taken off.  
  
The only teacher who seemed to remain oblivious was Snape. Probably it was because they didn't dare do anything too harsh in his class. Besides, he would hand out detention whatever the reason was, however flimsy the excuse and neither of them wanted that precious time away from their warfare.  
  
However, the war took an unexpected turn one faithful morning in Potions class, when everyone was paired off to work on a project. Seeing as the Gryffindors were already paired off together, and Hermione was left over...  
  
"Granger and Zabini." Snape called out.  
  
Blaise stared at him in horror, as did Hermione, and neither budged from their seat, although they should be moving. Snape glared impatiently at them, but still neither of them moved.  
  
"What is it?" He snapped finally.  
  
"Sir, if you hate me, you could just tell me so." Blaise said slowly.  
  
"Besides, sir, did you know that torture is outlawed?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Enough! Get to work or I'll give both of you detention!" Snape hissed, still glaring.  
  
Reluctantly, they started to work on the potion of the day, which, woolly incidentally, turned out to be Polyjouice Potion. Hermione bit back a grin as she began to shred the boomslang skin without even reading the instructions first; she knew them by heart. Blaise threw her a curious look, but quickly followed.  
  
They were finished ahead of the rest of the class, soon followed by Ron and Harry, who were beaming proudly at having finished such a complicated potion without mishap. Blaise and Hermione sat back and stared at the two vials in front of them, filled with the revolting potion.  
  
"You know, it's disgusting; I'll have to turn into you, of all people." Blaise commented off-handily.  
  
"Likewise." Hermione glared.  
  
Blaise only snorted and returned to staring at the vials. They had yet to pull out a hair each, but since there were still students who weren't finished, there was no rush to do so.  
  
Slowly but surely, everyone finished. Snape walked through the classroom, checking every cauldron, stopping to glare suspiciously at Harry and Ron's potion, but didn't take or give any points.  
  
"You can all add the last ingredient." He announced, and sat down behind his desk to watch them with a decidedly evil smirk on his face.  
  
"Well, hand me a hair then." Hermione told Blaise.  
  
Blaise however, only stared at her, as if she'd spoken in Arabian. Hermione tapped her fingers on the desk, waiting for him to do something, but he just sat there staring.  
  
"I beg your pardon? A hair?" He finally got out.  
  
"Yes, stupid. A hair. It's the final ingredient. Just pluck one out and be done with it." Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"What? No way!" Blaise exclaimed, but Hermione moved to fast.  
  
She leaned over and put a hand on his collar to steady herself, and quickly plucked a hair from his head. He jerked away at her touch, but she managed to do what she set out to do, and dropped the black hair in her potion. When she was done, she handed him a hair of her own. He stared at her, but took it gingerly and dropped it in his own potion.  
  
"Well, cheers, I guess." Hermione said, picking the vial up.  
  
"Yeah, cheers." Blaise agreed, as they gulped the foul tasting liquid.  
  
A minute later found the having switched seats, or so it seemed. Blaise stared down at his hands, which had grown, to him at least, so tiny. They were stained with ink, and nearly half the size of his own. He looked over at Hermione, and nearly fell out of his seat.  
  
The shock if seeing his own eyes staring back at him, looking both uncomfortable and amused, was large to say the least. It was strange, looking at him self like that; it was nothing like a mirror at all, since mirrors showed you exactly how you looked, while now, when Hermione was actually wearing his face, she had a woolly different expression than the one he wore. But he could hear his thoughts spinning out of control, and reined them in.  
  
"My, I really should have gotten up earlier; it would have given me time to brush my hair properly." Hermione-turned-Blaise muttered.  
  
"I would make a sarcastic comment, if I had the energy to." Blaise-turned- Hermione shot back. "But I won't. I will merely extend my condolences to you on your apparent; I might even say obvious, lack of womanly attributes."  
  
He watched her, or himself, turn white, and then red, and then white again, before she clenched her fist and punched him on the nose. Seeing as she had the advantage of his larger hands and superior strength, his nose broke with a crack.  
  
He clapped his hands over his, or her, nose, and gritted his teeth. He would not cry out, had she broken his nose ever so much. She was glaring at him furiously, while he tried to stop the blood flowing from his nose.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" Snape roared.  
  
Neither of the two answered, as speaking was a pain to Blaise, and Hermione was too enraged to form words. Thankfully, having brewed a slightly less powerful version of the Polyjuice Potion, its effects were already stating to fade. Hermione could feel her hair getting longer and her height diminishing, while watching similar changes in the boy in front of her.  
  
When they were back to their normal appearances, Hermione noticed that her hand was hurting. Apparently, she had dislocated something while punching Blaise. Snape was shouting at them, probably deducting house points, but neither of them cared; they were too busy glaring at each other to notice.  
  
"And off with you to the infirmary! If I ever see this kind of behaviour in my class again, you will be expelled!" Snape finished his rant.  
  
Reluctantly, the two of them got up and exited the classroom, leaving behind a very confused class and a raving professor, who took his anger out on poor Neville Longbottom.  
  
*****'  
  
"You really ought to apologize for that you know."  
  
Blaise stared at Hermione, disbelief written clearly on his face, still with one hand over his poorly abused nose. She was holding her hand, looking rather pained, but it was her words that made his jaw want to drop through the damn floor.  
  
"Apologize?" He asked, voice muffled by his broken nose, "Apologize? You broke my effing nose!"  
  
"You earned that!" She snapped, getting angry again.  
  
"I was only telling the bloody truth! You broke my nose!" He repeated for emphasis.  
  
"Yes I did, and I'd do it again if I had the opportunity! You deserved a broken nose!" She was almost shouting now.  
  
"Oh, did I? Did I? You should thank your lucky star that I've got enough honour left in my boy not to beat you senseless!" Blaise shouted back.  
  
"Honour? You don't even know how to spell honour!" Hermione bit back.  
  
"And you don't know how to spell tact, but apparently, that doesn't matter!"  
  
"Stop screaming!"  
  
They spun around and set eyes on Madame Pomfrey, who was standing in the doorway to the infirmary, looking rather annoyed. Whatever words they were about to shout died on their lips, and they stood there silently.  
  
"What happened here?" The nurse asked as she stared at the blood stains on Blaise's robes.  
  
"Accident in Potions." Hermione informed her, massaging her hand with a pain grimace.  
  
"Accident? Who are you kidding; you broke my nose!" Blaise exclaimed.  
  
"She did what?" Madame Pomfrey asked.  
  
The nurse looked from the tall Slytherin boy to the Gryffindor girl, who was decidedly on the small side, looking as if she had never heard anything so ludicrous. If Hermione would even be able to reach Blaise's nose, she would be able to punch him that was for certain.  
  
"Polyjuice Potion." Was all Hermione said.  
  
"Oh, come in then." The nurse said. "I can't believe how Severus manages to get at least one student to the infirmary every lesson."  
  
******'  
  
Arctic weather would have been warm compared to the temperature in the infirmary, as Blaise and Hermione sat on two beds, facing each other. Hermione had a bandage stuck over her hand, but Blaise appeared unharmed, with the exception of the formerly grey, now red-stained, sweater he was wearing.  
  
Madame Pomfrey had patched them up and ordered them to stay in the hospital wing for half an hour, until the after effects of the healing potion wore off. Needless to say, neither of them was very pleased about it. In fact, saying they were displeased would be missing out on an opportunity to use the word enraged.  
  
They were just having a glaring match when Harry and Ron entered the infirmary. Neither of the two shifted their gaze, but Blaise put his finger on the bridge of his nose, and gritted his teeth. Hermione snorted softly, and fingered the bandages on her hand.  
  
"You still haven't apologized." She commented, ignoring her best friends.  
  
"And I won't; you're the one who should apologize, seeing as you broke me nose. How many times do I have to tell you that?" Blaise replied.  
  
"And I keep telling you that you deserve that broken nose. When will I get through your thick scull?" She didn't even try to sound particularly nasty.  
  
"My scull is not as thick as yours; at least I have enough sense not to punch a Slytherin in front of Snape." Blaise shot back, sounding rather bored.  
  
"You'd get away with it even if you did." Hermione shrugged. "But be glad Snape sent us to the infirmary; else you'd even look like him."  
  
"Even with a broken nose, there's no way I'd look like Snape. I know about family resemblance and all that jazz, but the only thing we have in common is the height and the hair colour." Blaise raised an eyebrow.  
  
"You're related to him? Poor Snape." Hermione shot back at him, raising an eyebrow herself.  
  
"Poor Snape? Yeah, sure, I'd be pretty miserable if I looked like that as well." Blaise shrugged. "And look, time's up. We can leave."  
  
Hermione got to her feet and walked to the door, leaving Blaise sitting on the bed. Harry and Ron looked uncertainly at the Slytherin boy, who growled, making them quickly decide to follow Hermione.  
  
Hermione turned as she reached the door, and looked at him thoughtfully.  
  
"We'll see how you feel at the end of the year; I might even come to you funeral, Baldrick." She said, smirking, before turning back again and exiting.  
  
"Don't call me Baldrick!" Blaise shouted after her.  
  
But even as the door fell shut, he was smiling slightly. Not many had the nerve to punch him and then demand an apology, no matter how cruel he had been. Against his will, he was beginning to like their little fights. Even if she did call him Baldrick.  
  
*****'  
  
"What was that?" Ron asked as soon as they were out of the infirmary, even though he knew about Hermione's little war.  
  
"What was what? I just told him I'd be coming to his funeral." Hermione shrugged.  
  
"But you called him Baldrick!" Harry broke in.  
  
"That, Harry, is what is commonly called a ´inside joke´. I'm sure you've heard of the concept." Hermione smiled.  
  
"But Baldrick?"  
  
"Never mind, Harry, never mind." Hermione chuckled.  
  
She dragged them down to the Great Hall, where lunch was just about to begin. Maybe it had something to do with spending ten minutes as a teenage boy, but she was famished, and since today's lunch was lasagne, one of her favourites, she couldn't wait to get down there.  
  
******'  
  
Blaise sat down at the Slytherin table, and smiled broadly when he saw the food in front of him; lasagne, his favourite. But no matter how good cooks the House Elves were, they couldn't beat his mother's lasagne, which she only made sometimes, when she had time over.  
  
He began eating happily; ignoring the looks he got from his classmates as he tucked in. His nose still hurt a bit, and he was going to be wearing that thin scar across the bridge of it, caused by his own hands adorned with the family crest ring, for the rest of his life, but aside from that, he was fine.  
  
Despite having had his nose broken, the day so far had been entertaining. The look on Hermione's, or rather his, face when he made that comment was almost worth the pain of a broken nose. Not that he enjoyed being punched, mind you.  
  
The fact that she had punched him in front of Snape only served to prove that she was, after all evidence of the opposite, a true Gryffindor. Or maybe she was merely a very good actor. Surely no Gryffindor would ever plot and scheme their revenge like she had done. Nor would they ever carry the plans out, because their nobility and honour would surely stop them from stepping out of line.  
  
"Hey Blaise, I heard you were punched by a girl! And that cow Granger, no less." Malcolm Baddock snickered from down the table.  
  
"Wherever did you get that foolish idea?" Blaise asked. "It was I who punched me."  
  
"What?" Baddock asked, chucking uncertainly.  
  
"We were making Polyjuice Potion in class today, and she was wearing my appearance when she punched me. Ergo, it was I who punched me." Blaise explained cheerfully. "Besides, Draco can testify she packs one hell of a punch, in her own body or not. Having my fists only added to it."  
  
"Why did she hit you anyway?" Theodore Nott broke in.  
  
"I'm not quite sure of that as of yet." Blaise admitted, although he knew it to be a lie, "I only made some comments about her appearance, which I was unlucky enough to be wearing, and she blew up."  
  
"You had to pair up with Granger?" Baddock asked, apparently shocked.  
  
"Yes." Blaise answered, and went back to his eating.  
  
Across the hall, he could see Hermione eating her lunch very enthusiastically. She seemed to be enjoying the food just as much as he was. Potter and Weasley were asking about something, probably why she'd hit him in class, but she only answered them occasionally, concentrating on her food.  
  
He smiled slightly, and looked down at his plate. It was going to be an interesting few months till Graduation. Hopefully, both of them would still be standing by then.  
  
*****'  
  
Ending Notes; yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it's terribly OOC for Hermione to punch him, but my muse ran away with the story and refused to give it back. Hope you enjoyed it. 


	6. Stuck Again

First day of school today. *sigh* it wasn't that bad, really, and the teacher I hated the most actually changed schools over summer, but I do not like school. So much valuable time that could be spent writing..  
  
Oh well, here's the new chapter anyway.  
  
******'  
  
There were books and parchment, scattered all over the floor, making it look like someone had made an overstuffed book bag explode. The looks of things were, for once, completely true. And in the middle of the surprisingly circular mess, fuming silently was Hermione Granger. Blaise was standing right in front of her, looking rather sheepish.  
  
He had, despite the fact that he should know better, dropped some kind of Zonko product in her bag, causing it to explode. And she, against any rhyme or reason, found herself fighting back a laugh; he was looking just like a little boy being scolded for a prank. And he more or less was, although there were no words being said.  
  
However, just when Hermione opened her mouth to remedy that, Snape stepped around the corner and set eyes on them. His already displeased expression grew angry, and he took the last few steps towards them in a stride.  
  
"I do not want to know what happened. I do not want you to tell me what happened. But, and I must stress this, if it ever happens again, I will have both of you, yes, both, expelled. Do I make myself clear?" He said in a dangerously low voice.  
  
They both nodded, caught like deer's in headlight, and swallowed as he continued. It was almost comical how coordinated their movements were.  
  
"And you will both have detention. Now." He told them and, turning around, started towards his dungeon.  
  
Having no choice, they shrugged and followed him. Once again, an onlooker would have cause for amusement, as they both shrugged at the exact same time. There had been an unspoken, temporary peace between them.  
  
******'  
  
That peace, however, didn't last long. As soon as they were given their detention; cleaning the student's stores, they began bickering again. They had been doing it for so long now that it had become a habit.  
  
"You know, they don't make detentions like this anymore." Blaise commented.  
  
"Nope. These days, torture is outlawed in many countries, and therefore, detentions like this are illegal." Hermione told him in her best know-it- all voice.  
  
"Ah; I knew there was something rather strange about it. But, if it's detentions of the old school you want, you can always trust in Professor Snape." He nodded.  
  
"You mean you don't, otherwise?"  
  
"Of course not; I'm a Slytherin, I don't trust anyone!" Blaise shot at her, looking rather offended.  
  
"I bet you read the Slytherin Rules of Acquisition as a prayer every night, don't you?" She asked, snorting, "I can see it, alright."  
  
"What, me in my boxers?" Blaise asked, holding back laughter at her expression. "Whoever said Gryffindors were pure minded has apparently never met you."  
  
"Shut up!" She growled, blushing.  
  
"I don't particularly care to know what little game you two are playing, but as entertaining as it is to listen to it, this is a detention. Ergo, you are supposed to be miserable. You will be finished when I come back, or you will have to do it over again." Snape interrupted, as he was standing in the doorway.  
  
They nodded, Hermione still blushing brightly.  
  
"However, do tell me who wins." Snape said, smirking before he left them alone.  
  
Hermione blinked. That was definitely...out of character for Snape, to say the least. Sighing, she want back to sorting through the student's supplies of lacewings, while Blaise was kneeling across the smallish room, reorganizing some jars she had no idea what was kept in.  
  
******'  
  
Snape returned, they were finished, and were allowed to go. Surprisingly, no insults had been flying between them since he left. Apparently, neither of them felt like fighting at the moment, however amusing it was. Snape looked at them suspiciously, but let them go.  
  
Silently, they trudged up the stairs again, and while Blaise went off to the Slytherin Common Room, Hermione went down to the kitchen, seeing as they'd both missed dinner. She tickled the pear on the portrait, and went inside.  
  
"Miss! Dobby is so glad to see you. Can Dobby bring you anything, Miss?" Dobby, who else, squeaked as soon as she came into sight.  
  
"Hello, Dobby. Could you bring me some sandwiches? I had detention with Snape and missed dinner." She explained.  
  
"I bring them in a minute Miss!" The House Elf exclaimed, and rushed off.  
  
Hermione settled down on a chair, and waited. Her plan to liberate the House Elves had crumbled to dust when Dobby, Winky and two of the Hogwarts Elves, going by the nickname ´the Twinkies´ had convinced her that the House elves enjoyed serving. It was uncaring employers they couldn't stand.  
  
She was broken out of her thoughts when Dobby came back with the sandwiches. Apparently, he thought she'd been without food for a week, because there had to bee at least fifteen-something sandwiches in that lot.  
  
"Thank you Dobby." She told the Elf, holding back laughter, and accepted the food.  
  
"How are you Miss?" He asked.  
  
"I'm fine Dobby. Look, I really have to go; I've got studying to do. I'll come see you some other time, alright?" She said.  
  
"Alright, Miss!" Dobby bounded off again.  
  
She smiled, and left the kitchen; she really did have studying to do, since the exams were drawing closer. She headed off to the library, munching on the sandwiches as she went, smiling a slightly not-all-there smile, thinking about whatever happened to strike her fancy. What struck her fancy most often seemed to Blaise.  
  
She just couldn't stop thinking about their little exchange in the Potions classroom, when she'd made a comment, and he'd retorted with ´What, me in my boxers?´. Unfortunately, that comment had planted a rather uncomfortable picture in her mind. She more than once had to slap herself silly, mentally of course, to get the image of Blaise in nothing but his underwear out of her head. It was definitely one for the top ten on the List of Things to Confess on Deathbed.  
  
She popped the last bit of the ham sandwich in her mouth, stuffed the remaining twelve in her bag, and entered the library. Madame Pince refused to let anyone eat as much as a Chocolate Frog in the library, so she thought it best to hide the food.  
  
*******'  
  
Blaise was in a foul mood. He had gotten detention with Snape, he had cleaned out the student's supply closet together with Hermione Granger, all the while not saying a bloody word, and now he had missed dinner. Since he didn't know how to get into the kitchens, he would have to go hungry until breakfast. Which was about twelve hours away.  
  
He wasn't sure he'd make it. He needed something to distract himself with, and thus, he was going to the library. Books had always been able to pass his time when he was bored, so he figured it would work if he was hungry too. Even if it didn't, it was worth a shot.  
  
He pushed the doors open, and walked aimlessly through the bookshelves for a minute or two, before he came to a sheltered nook of the large room, which seemed to house Muggle books, both fact and fiction. He had always enjoyed reading Muggle fiction; most wizarding fiction was based on the author's life, or other famous wizard's lives. Ergo, it got boring quickly. Muggles, however, seemed to have a livelier imagination than wizards, and therefore wrote more interesting books.  
  
He pulled out one at random, and sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs. He glanced at the title before opening the book. ´Finnegan's Wake´ was emblazoned across the cover. He smiled; that reminded him of that Irish Gryffindor, Seamus Finnegan. He settled in and buried his nose in the book.  
  
It must have been hours later, when his stomach rumbles started to register on the Richter scale, when he heard someone coming closer to his section of the library. He glanced up from his book, to see Hermione standing there.  
  
"I'll just be leaving then." She said, and turned to go.  
  
"No. Sit down." He said.  
  
She turned back and, raising an eyebrow, looked at him, with a very small smile tugging at her lips. He raised an eyebrow himself, wondering what was so amusing.  
  
"Ordering me around, are you?"  
  
"No. But I'm not going to chase you away either. Sit down." He said, and buried himself in his book again.  
  
"´Finnegan's Wake´?"  
  
"Yes." He muttered. "Is that a problem?"  
  
"Nope. It's kind of good actually. But I'll settle for ´Neverwhere´." She said and sat down across from him.  
  
"Hmm," Was his distracted reply.  
  
******'  
  
Suddenly, the lights went out. Blaise looked up from his book, startled, and caught Hermione's equally surprised gaze. Madame Pince always made sure people were out of the library before she closed it. So why hadn't she this time?  
  
"I'll go check the doors." Hermione mumbled, and lit the tip of her wand with a mumbled spell before she headed off.  
  
"You do that." He said, saying a ´Lumos´ spell of his own, and placing the book on the table.  
  
Soon, she returned, looking slightly annoyed. She plopped down in her seat and heaved a sigh, which made him smile a bit.  
  
"It's a well known fact that I am intelligent, but that intelligence doesn't cover telepathy. What happened?" He asked.  
  
"The doors are locked and they seem to be spelled shut too; not even Alohomora works." She spat out at the ground, not looking at him. "And since there are no other exits to the library, we're stuck."  
  
"How do you know about that? Maybe there are other exits." He pointed out.  
  
"Oh, trust me, there aren't. We're stuck till dawn at least." She said darkly.  
  
"This brings back memories." He snorted.  
  
"I'd like to state for the record that I feel a general dislike towards you at the moment." She said.  
  
"Only at the moment?" he asked, and nearly hit himself over the head for sounding hopeful.  
  
Where the hell had that come from? She was the girl who had threatened to push him off the Astronomy Tower. The girl who called him Baldrick, purely to annoy him. She was the girl who had promised, or threatened, to come to his funeral. The same girl who constantly annoyed him and made fun of him. Why did he give a damn about what she thought?  
  
"Do you honestly want me to answer that?"  
  
"Yes?" He grinned uncertainly.  
  
"Alright." She sighed, "No I don't dislike you all the time; sometime, only rarely mind you, you can actually be quite funny. You're intelligent, you can talk about other things than Quidditch, chess and the latest girl to walk by, and you see me as neither a walking lexicon nor a threat against the pureblooded world. On the whole, I can stand you." She winked while saying the last part.  
  
Against his will, he felt hope rise in his chest. She didn't hate him, after all. And the next second he was kicking himself over why it mattered to him. Sighing, he pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on the here and now part of proceedings.  
  
"I am rather tolerant towards you as well." He said casually.  
  
"Why thank you." She was just about to say something further, when his stomach interrupted them with a large growl.  
  
"Damn; traitorous body functions." He mumbled.  
  
"Hungry?" She asked, diving into her bag for the leftover sandwiches.  
  
"Have I died and gone to heaven?" He asked, as he accepted the food and ate gratefully.  
  
"No, but please do as soon as you can." She quipped, grinning slightly.  
  
He mock-glared at her, but couldn't find it in his heart to be angry, since he was famished, and she had just put food in his hands. That made her the equivalent of a goddess. He caught himself again. He really shouldn't spend time alone with her; it messed up his thinking.  
  
******'  
  
Three hours later found them still sitting in the overstuffed chairs, Blaise having given up Finnegan's Wake for another book called The Green Mile and Hermione still deep in Neverwhere. Sine they weren't getting out any time soon, they had settled in to read their way through, to keep from getting bored.  
  
But the reason Blaise had changed books was not that it was boring, but that he kept getting distracted. His thoughts kept dwelling on Hermione; on something she'd said, or on something she'd done, or even something someone else had done or said, which for some reason or the other related to her.  
  
With a sigh, he put the book down and got to his feet. Hermione didn't even glance at him, and it made him slightly angry. They were, after all, locked in the library; why didn't she give the slightest if he got up and walked away? Maybe he would leave her alone, finding some way out, and not care that she was stuck there all night, all alone.  
  
Frustrated, he started walking back and forth next to the chairs, turning every time he was a foot or so away from the bookshelves. He just couldn't sit still anymore; he had to do something, or he would go insane.  
  
After a while, he became aware of Hermione watching him from her chair, having put her book on the table in front of her. Her expression seemed slightly amused, and there was a small smile playing on her lips. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, and then shook his head, mumbled something not ever he could decipher, and continued his pacing.  
  
Bushy-haired Gryffindors oughtn't to be allowed in his presence. They were distracting, annoying and not exactly good for his self-esteem. And the fact that they were almost unhealthily beautiful weren't helping.  
  
He halted abruptly. Beautiful? Alright, now he was losing it. Hermione Granger wasn't beautiful, not by a long shot. But then again, she wasn't ugly either, that he had to admit. The bushy hair might not be the most fetching in the world, but she made up for it by not wearing ridiculous amounts of make-up and beauty-products. In fact, the only time he had ever seen her with make-up was in Fourth Year, at the Yule Ball.  
  
He'd been standing in a corner, talking to his date, the pitcher of Pumpkin Juice, mentally making sarcastic remarks about the other attendants, when the doors had opened, and Krum had entered. He, contrary to all the others, had immediately recognized her. What surprised him was how relaxed she looked, how happy, in a slightly triumphant way. It had been strange, not seeing her worrying over something, be it her friends, her homework or something else.  
  
He didn't realize he had been staring at Hermione for the last two minutes, before she got up and waved her hand in front of his face. He blinked, and looked at her in confusion. She raised an eyebrow and tapped her foot.  
  
"What could possibly be so interesting that you have to stare at me?" She asked.  
  
"Nothing." He mumbled, still staring.  
  
"Nothing? As if I believe that. Now tell me." She ordered.  
  
The next few moments could only be described as impulsive, incomprehensive and more than merely strange. For years to come, he would ponder exactly what prompted him to do what he did, but he would never some up with a decent answer.  
  
To put it bluntly, he put his hand on her shoulders, leaned forward and kissed her. To use a well-worn cliché, the world seemed to come to a standstill around them, and narrowed down to only the two of them.  
  
Seconds later, he pulled away and stared at her in a mixture of horror, surprise and not a little shock. Her expression was much the same, and for a moment, neither of the said or did anything, they just stared at each other.  
  
Then, Blaise let go of her as if he'd been stung, and took a step back, almost stumbling but managing to catch him self. He mumbled over and over under his breath, as he stared at Hermione in wide-eyed shock.  
  
"I shouldn't have done that. I should not have done that." He repeated over and over, almost like a mantra.  
  
He turned on his heels and walked away. Not out of the library, but away from that particular section, knowing that there'd be hell to pay if he didn't explain himself. But right now, he couldn't even understand it, or find reasons to it himself, so it was an impossibility to explain it to her.  
  
*****'  
  
Hermione stared after him as he disappeared behind the shelves, mumbling something under his breath and looking absolutely terrified. To tell the truth, she wasn't much better off herself. The last thing she'd expected him to do was kiss her.  
  
And what a kiss it had been. Now she knew what being hit by a ton of fuzzy bricks felt like. She'd never really had any boyfriends, but it wasn't her first kiss, but it was by far the best one. And to think it had only lasted a few seconds.  
  
The question burning a neat little hole in her mind at the moment, however, was why. Why had he kissed her? Why had he stared at her? Why had he even bothered to engage in conversation that could be termed as civil, after all that had happened between the two of them?  
  
But those questions could wait either until he came back or they were let out of the library. Whichever came first. Now, all she had to do was sort out her own thoughts. And that was, by no means, an easy task. She had never been so confused in her whole life.  
  
True, she didn't particularly dislike him; he was arrogant at times, but in a mocking way. He could be endlessly annoying, and he was at least a match for her when it came to brains, but neither of those really bothered her.  
  
"Arhg." She muttered to herself, "This isn't helping, not at all. What the hell am I thinking, even contemplating things like that? He's an annoying little brat, and that's the way it should stay. But if he's a brat, then why the hell did I enjoy the kiss so damn much?"  
  
She sank down in her chair and put her head in her hands, trying desperately to think rational, logical and calm thoughts, but not succeeding.  
  
******'  
  
Ending Notes; and there it is; the inevitable kiss. It might have come too soon, but I never intended this to be a very long story anyway. I promise, is it over ten chapters, it's much more than I had planned. Be happy about that. *winks*. 


	7. Author's Note

This is not a new chapter. It is merely an author's note, but don't worry, new updates will come soon. But, since I've managed, in only six chapters, to confuse quite a few of you, I decided it was time for an explanation of some things.  
  
The Slytherin password; Draco Dormiens. Some have asked me if I got it from Cassie Claire's Draco Trilogy. I haven't, as a matter of fact. I got it from the first two words in the Hogwart's motto; Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus, which, roughly translated, means ´Never tickle a sleeping dragon´. Since Draco (Malfoy) is a Slytherin, I thought this was a neat password.  
  
The running ´Baldrick´ joke; this I got from Blackadder, a very funny (in my opinion) English TV-series, (I think, at least. You can only get them on VHS in Sweden) starring Roan Atkinson, also known as Mr Bean. Atkinson's character has a sidekick called Baldrick, who is always coming up with cunning plans, which inevitably go wrong.  
  
What lead to it ending up in this fic is the part where Blaise picks up one of the books he's returning to the library, a book Draco borrowed, and comments on it. The book is called ´Why I Like To Do It With Girls´. This, the title, has a connection with Blackadder. However, since it's been years since I've seen it, I can't exactly remember how, when and where. Blame it on my insanity. *mutters under her breath*  
  
I've gotten several reviews telling me that they hadn't thought about the Boy!Blaise/Hermione pairing before, and that they think it's brilliant, or at least worth thinking about now, and some even said that they have been searching all over for good fics with this pairing and this was the only one they could find. I'd like to recommend FictionAlley's ship thread for this pairing. The name of the ship is HMS Overworked and Underappreciated, and the site address is  
  
www. fictionalley.org  
  
Since I've already explained the cardboard thing and the book, I'll skip that. I'd instead like to thank you all for your encouraging reviews. Pointing out where the characters have gone OOC, when they kept IC, what parts you liked and what parts you didn't has helped me a lot.  
  
I know parts of the story are rushed, but since I, just as you, want to see where out beloved main characters are headed, I tend to rush through parts of the story to get there faster.  
  
I've decided to include the Slytherin Rules of Acquisition mentioned in the last chapter. Here they are.  
  
Slytherins are not responsible for the stupidity of other Houses  
  
Never trust anyone whose robes are nicer than yours  
  
Never allow family to stand in the way of opportunity  
  
Keep your lies consistent  
  
It never hurts to suck up to the boss  
  
Don't sleep with your boss's relatives  
  
Always sleep with your boss (unless it's Voldemort)  
  
Every once in a while, declare peace. It confuses the hell out of your enemies.  
  
The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife  
  
If you're going to have to endure, make yourself comfortable  
  
Never offer a confession when a bribe will do  
  
Never argue with the point of a wand  
  
Flirting can get you anything - and if it doesn't work, offer sex  
  
Never admit a mistake if there's someone else to blame  
  
Treat people in your dept like your family - exploit them  
  
Even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit - make sure it's you  
  
Sometimes what you get for free costs entirely too much  
  
One person's secret is another person's opportunity  
  
The greater the amount you are taking from someone, the greater the distraction must be.  
  
More is good, all is better  
  
Deep down, everyone's a Slytherin  
  
If you always hope for the best and expect the worst, you'll never be disappointed.  
  
If no one can prove it, it never happened.  
  
Never do something yourself if you can make someone else do it for you.  
  
Honour is always negotiable.  
  
A dishonourable life is better than an honourable death.  
  
The best opportunity to kill is the one that frightens the witnesses the most.  
  
Evil is a point of view.  
  
And that, as they say, is that. The Rules of Acquisition belong to Elspethdixon. Sadly, I can't remember where I found them. *sighs* However, I've been quoting liberally from this list while writing Silent Snake, as well as my other stories, and it has helped me a lot in understanding the complex machinery that is Slytherin. I think that's it from this rambling author.  
  
Signing off  
  
Metallicafangirl 


	8. A War to End All Wars, or Something Like...

*bows down* Wonderful reviewers, I love you. I never expected to get more than 20 reviews for this, even with all chapters uploaded, since it's such an unconventional pairing. Imagine my shock when I saw 79 reviews (last time I looked). Thank you ever so much.  
  
In this chapter; more Harry and Ron for those who asked where they were. *grins* I know I've made them a bit passive, but that's because I didn't really know how they'd react, and because they didn't really affect the plot anyway. However, they aren't forgotten. Just imagine they've been off to the side and playing Quidditch or something *shrugs*.  
  
*********'  
  
The lecture they received from Madame Pince was bad enough to rival Snape at his worst. One could believe they'd been burning the place to the ground, and not just sit quietly in two chairs all night, doing nothing.  
  
Well, almost nothing anyway.  
  
The kiss wasn't, and probably never would be, forgotten. Hermione had tried to talk to Blaise when he came back, but he had only snatched his book and set off again, not saying a word, or in any way answering her inquiries. So she'd sat down again, a little discouraged, and had waited out the night by herself, knowing that if she went after him, it'd only get worse; he needed time to sort things out.  
  
She already had her thoughts sorted out. Being a practical girl, she had gone through her feelings one by one, identifying them and putting them in place. She'd concluded that she had at the very least a crush on the black haired Slytherin, if not more, and when she'd realized that, she'd wasted no time in ignoring it for the time being and gone back to her book.  
  
Now, when they were outside the library with strict orders to go and not come back for at least two days, she turned to Blaise and was about to say something, when he turned on his heels and disappeared down the corridor towards the Slytherin Common Room.  
  
She stared after him, open mouthed, not knowing what to do. The look on his face before he had turned had been one of carefully erected calm and control, as if he was afraid he'd do something rash or wrong if he didn't keep a tight leash on himself. He had almost seemed..afraid.  
  
Feeling a little put down, and slightly sad, she walk towards the Great Hall, where breakfast would be served in a few minutes. She hunched her shoulders, as if to ward something unpleasant off, and trudged down the stairs silently. Maybe she could see Ron and Harry, and talk about Quidditch, or chess. Anything to get her mind off Blaise Zabini for the moment.  
  
******'  
  
Ron and Harry were, indeed, sitting at the Gryffindor table, already munching on their breakfast and talking Quidditch strategies between mouthfuls. She slid into her seat beside them, and started buttering a roll, glancing cautiously towards the Slytherin table. Blaise wasn't there.  
  
Relieved, she turned back to her breakfast, and tried to pay attention to her two best friends. She felt kind of bad for almost ignoring them since she'd started the war with Blaise, and she wanted to pay them back for putting up with her being that way.  
  
"...And then, I just kicked the Quaffle straight across the field, and nearly managed to score too!" Ron was saying.  
  
"Can Keepers score in Quidditch?" She asked, breaking their concentration for a second.  
  
"What? Oh, they can, but it doesn't happen often, you see it's like this." Ron began, immediately including her in the conversation.  
  
She pretended to listen for a while, but had a hard time concentrating. For once, it wasn't because the topic was Quidditch; she merely had too much on her mind already to take it in and actually pay attention.  
  
After a while, Harry noticed she was spacing off, and leaned across the table, looking concerned. This was enough to break her out of her reverie, and she stared at him for a moment before regaining her composure.  
  
"Hermione, where were you last night?" Harry asked, sounding worried.  
  
"What? Oh; I got locked in the library, since Madame Pince warded the doors overnight, and I couldn't get out." She explained sheepishly.  
  
"What?" Ron asked, chuckling, "How? Didn't you tell us Madame Pince checks the library every night before closing?"  
  
She was impressed, surprised even, that Ron, who always complained about her bookishness, had managed to remember such a trivial detail about the library, which she had only mentioned in a passing conversation a few weeks ago  
  
"Well, she didn't this time; w- I was in the Muggle Literature section, and since she didn't see me come in, and I am the only one to my knowledge that reads Muggle literature here at Hogwarts, I guess she didn't bother to check." Hermione shrugged.  
  
Ron burst out laughing. Harry chuckled a bit, and Hermione looked at them for a while, still smiling sheepishly, before joining them. Soon, all three of them were laughing loudly, causing several other students to look at them curiously.  
  
However, Hermione's laughter stopped abruptly when the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Draco Malfoy came in, dragging Blaise Zabini by the collar. The black haired boy looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, but reluctantly sat down in his seat when his blond House mate pushed him towards it.  
  
Hermione caught his eye across the hall, but Blaise quickly looked down in his late and refused to meet her gaze. Hermione turned back to her own breakfast, and tried to ignore the tightening of her throat and the slight prickle in her eyes. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry in front of the whole Hall.  
  
She was steadily becoming unsure if he really gave a damn about her, and if that kiss had only been something new to taunt her with. She hoped that that wasn't the case, but with a Slytherin, one could never know. She blinked back the tears and concentrated, once again, on Ron and Harry's conversation, without actually joining in.  
  
*****'  
  
Had Hermione known of the events that played out in the Slytherin boy's dorms only half an hour earlier, she might have reacted differently to seeing Blaise. As it was, she hadn't, and reacted the way she did.  
  
Draco had come into the dorm looking for his tie, which he'd forgotten to put on, and found Blaise sitting on his bed, tie untied, cloak on the floor, staring at the wall with a far-away expression on his face.  
  
The black haired boy didn't even notice him, until he sat down on the bed next to him, and even then, he only turned his head slightly. He looked as if he hadn't slept for days, and he had a sort of hopeless look in his eyes.  
  
"Blaise, what's wrong with you? You look like hell." Draco ventured.  
  
"Nothing." Blaise mumbled. "Except I got locked in the library, made an idiot of myself, and drastically screwed up my life."  
  
"That doesn't sound good. What happened?" Draco asked.  
  
He was alarmed that his friend, previously the Slytherin of the most sunny disposition, in as far as a Slytherin could be sunny, was sitting on his bed, looking for the world as if he'd lost everything.  
  
"Nothing important," Blaise shrugged so carelessly that it only made Draco more suspicious that something important really had happened. "I just made a mistake too big for words, and now I don't know what to do."  
  
"Ah. Girl-trouble." Draco said, grinning slightly. "It was only a matter of time until it happened to you."  
  
While all other Slytherin boys, with the exception of Crabbe and Goyle, had had girlfriends at least once, and all of them had had some sort of trouble with the opposite sex, Blaise had stayed amazingly clear of such problems. Now, it seemed, disaster had finally struck him.  
  
And if the look on his face, fear mixed with alarm and embarrassment, was anything to judge from, Draco had been right in his assumptions. Now all he had to do was figure out whom the girl was. He sat for a moment, before his brain kicked into action and realization began to dawn.  
  
"It isn't Granger, is it?" He asked, and seeing the look on Blaise's face change quickly, he knew he'd been right, "It is. I can't believe it. Why Granger? She's just a bookworm Gryffindor with bushy hair!"  
  
"I don't know. I'm such a damn fool." Blaise mumbled as he buried his face in his hands.  
  
It came as a shock, to say the least, finding out that his friend fancied a Gryffindor, but thinking about it, it made sense. The two had been tormenting each other over the last two months, but neither actually hurt the other if they could avoid it. And, when it came to the inner workings of love, who was he to judge?  
  
"Ah. Well, love makes fools of the best of us." Draco said wisely, "And this calls for immediate action. Breakfast."  
  
"What?" Draco's seemingly illogical change of subject confused Blaise to say the least.  
  
"Breakfast; you'll think better with food in your stomach. Besides, it's blueberry pancakes, and you'd be stupid to say no to that." Draco winked.  
  
"Oh no," Blaise whined, "I should have known. Do all your grand plans equal food?"  
  
"Of course," Draco said, dragging him out of the room.  
  
******'  
  
Now, Blaise was sitting in the Great Hall, picking at his pancakes, trying not to stare at Hermione too much. She'd tried to catch his eye, but being afraid of what he'd see there, he'd looked away immediately.  
  
Draco had of course seen the exchange, and had threatened to go over there and tell her about it, but desisted when Blaise threatened to hex him. Now, Draco only glanced at him from time to time and grinned.  
  
He tried to ignore the world around him, but it had an annoying habit of getting in his way. Sighing, he ate his breakfast silently, and kept his thoughts to himself.  
  
******'  
  
Charms; a nice, normal lesson with a nice and nearly normal teacher. Lately, however, it had become a battle ground for Blaise and Hermione's personal war. And the students, always ready for entertainment, had come to expect their little confrontations in class.  
  
Therefore, when the class entered that morning, they were waiting for the two of them to start bickering. Blaise entered the classroom behind Draco and walked silently to his seat. He sat down and took out his quill, waiting for the lesson to start.  
  
Hermione followed only moments later, and sat down next to Ron and Harry, equally silent, pulling out her quill and parchment, and ignored the rest of the class. A class which felt increasingly annoyed.  
  
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Any other normal day, the two of them would have been at each other's throats from the moment they walked through the door. Now, they were sitting in their respective seats on opposite sides of the classroom, ignoring the other as much as possible.  
  
Flitwick came in and started the lesson, and life seemed to go on as normal. Only when they were to pair up for the lesson something happened which was slightly odd. Hermione ended up working for Draco Malfoy.  
  
This was odd, because no teacher in their right mind, not even Snape, would set the two to work together. They hated each other with a passion that bordered on murderous, and this made working together quite impossible. Therefore, several students assumed Flitwick had last his last vestige of sanity.  
  
Draco, however, didn't protest too much, since the scheming Slytherin saw this as his chance to find out if the bushy haired Gryffindor felt anything towards his classmate. Besides, if he could torment her while doing so, where was the harm?  
  
"So, Granger, what's up?" He asked, "What happened to the usual show?"  
  
"What show?" She asked, keeping her eyes on her textbook.  
  
"You know what I'm talking about; why aren't you and Blaise already chewing on each other? Something happen?" He just managed to keep from laughing at her expression.  
  
"No." She mumbled, "I'm just tired. I don't know about him, but that's my reason."  
  
"Hmm. And you two were in the library because..?" Draco queried, grinning slightly evilly.  
  
Her head snapped up and she stared at him, mouth hanging open, looking utterly and completely shocked.  
  
"How did you know that?" She demanded.  
  
"I didn't. I just wanted to be sure." Draco shrugged.  
  
"You bloody sneak." She spat, "Well, I'm not telling you. If you want to know so damn bad; ask him. I'm sure he can tell you all about it."  
  
"Ouch. Best change subjects before you start chewing on me, and not him. He must have screwed up really bad." Draco muttered before starting to work on the assignment.  
  
Hermione threw him a glare, but said nothing.  
  
*****'  
  
Across the classroom, Blaise watched the exchange, but couldn't hear the actual words. He saw Hermione glare at Draco, and couldn't help cringing slightly. If he knew Draco, like he thought he did, the blonde had just said something insulting, and he felt a little angry at his classmate, but only for a moment.  
  
He quickly returned to working on his assignment with Millicent Bulstrode, who was actually really nice when you got to know her. She'd grown very tall over the years, and now only he and Weasley stood taller than she did, making it impossible for her to get dates, because the larger part of the male students refused to go out with a girl two heads taller than they were.  
  
He chewed on the end of his quill as his eyes scanned the textbook for details on the Severing Charm. He managed to concentrate on the text, if only because Millicent jabbed him in the ribs every time his concentration began to drift.  
  
"Blaise, stop staring; you're embarrassing yourself." Millicent muttered.  
  
"I'm not staring; I'm wondering if Draco can manage to get a rise out of her." He muttered back, secretly annoyed that she'd caught him at it.  
  
"Hmm." Millicent mumbled, looking very disbelieving, but let him be after that.  
  
He snorted, and tried not to be too obvious in his staring, although he doubted he'd succeed. Hermione had an annoying habit of keeping in the forefront of his mind ever since last night, and looking at her seemed almost second nature to him already.  
  
****'  
  
Hermione left the Charms classroom as quickly as she could after the lesson, not to be caught up in conversation with Malfoy again, or staring at Blaise. She raced down the hallway to get to Transfigurations, and ignored Neville as he shouted for her to wait up.  
  
She just wanted to get away from the class as fast as possible. If she had to suffer through one more second of Draco Malfoy's suggestive comments, she'd go stark raving mad. He'd been dropping hints about Blaise since the lesson started, constantly asking what had happened in the library, a topic she was not about to discuss with anyone, much less him.  
  
She didn't want to know what Blaise had told him about the night in the library, but it was obvious, since Malfoy had a hard time keeping a straight face, it couldn't have been anything good, and the last thing she wanted was to have Malfoy laugh at her.  
  
What was even more annoying was that Blaise had been sitting just across the classroom, working with Millicent Bulstrode, looking like he enjoyed himself very much. And Hermione couldn't really blame him; Millicent had grown up quite nicely, and no longer looked so bullish. She knew she wasn't much to look at herself, and it seemed like Blaise had decided to move on to new conquests.  
  
If he ever really bothered with her, that was. That thought had her blinking back tears. Swallowing hard, she hurried towards Transfigurations, not caring that she nearly pushed people out of her way to get there.  
  
****'  
  
The Slytherin Common Room had a thick green rug, placed in front of the fireplace. Two silver serpents twisted around the edges of it, making it the perfect Slytherin rug. It was usually only used to warm ones feet during winter time. Now, however, it was being worn through by a pair of feet.  
  
The feet belonged to Blaise Zabini, and he was pacing restlessly back and forth, staring at the floor. Draco, who was sitting in one of the chairs, watched him in amusement. Blaise had been pacing for nearly an hour now, and showed no signs of stopping any time soon.  
  
"What's he up to?" Millicent queried as she slumped in the chair next to him.  
  
"Oh, you know; girl trouble." Draco shrugged, grinning.  
  
"Ah. Who's the lucky girl?" She asked, grinning as well.  
  
"Take a guess."  
  
"Oh. Granger, is it?" She asked, and at Draco's nod, continued, "Hmm. I guess I should have known. He's been constantly annoying her for weeks now. I can't say I saw it coming, but still. Too bad Granger's probably wrapped up in Weasley already."  
  
Draco looked at her in surprise. The last sentence had sounded somewhat jealous. Millicent couldn't be fancying Weasley, could she?  
  
"Do I detect jealousy there, Millicent?" He asked.  
  
"No." She mumbled, but she was blushing slightly.  
  
"Liar. You fancy Weasley, don't you?" Draco asked, trying not to laugh.  
  
"You have an amazing grasp of the blatantly obvious, Draco." She shot back.  
  
"Oh, this is so fun! I can play matchmaker! Now, how do I go about it?" He said to himself, as Millicent got up and walked off.  
  
Blaise appeared not to have heard him, and continued his pacing. Draco was left alone to plan his matchmaking, and did so as darkness fell over the school.  
  
******'  
  
Ending Notes; alright, so Harry and Ron didn't show up all that much, but they had some more lines. I've got a Slytherin bias, and I've always had an easier time writing Slytherins than Gryffindors, so there you have it. 


	9. The Troubles With Saying Hello

And I'm back again, with a new chapter! I bet you like me for that, eh? *grins* I got The Two Towers on DVD, and watched it last night, so I'm in a little LOTR mood right now. That's what happens when you spend most of the nearly three hours fantasizing about Faramir...I like Faramir. *grins even wider*  
  
But this is not LOTR, this is HP, and this is a new chapter. Enjoy!  
  
Oh, and a long-delayed disclaimer; I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does. I am making no money of this and no trademark infringement is intended.  
  
*looks above* Damn, that sounded almost legal. Maybe I should become a lawyer...Or not. *grins* I say like Terry Pratchett;  
  
"Klatchians don't even have a word for lawyer."  
  
"Good for them."  
  
- Quoted from Jingo.  
  
*****'  
  
Draco was frustrated. He was, in fact, quite ready to tear his books apart, while frothing at the mouth. His attempts to match-make were going awry. They were frankly horribly bad. Nothing he'd tried had worked.  
  
He'd gotten an admission out of Blaise, and he knew that his classmate did like the Gryffindor know-it-all, for reasons he couldn't fathom. Of course, this was why he had started match-making in the first place. But Granger proved a harder nut to crack.  
  
She'd resisted his ever try at making her talk about the night in the library. He'd even gone so far as to try to blackmail her, but then she'd only shrugged and said she didn't really care whether he did or not. And his attempts so get the truth out of Blaise had proved as futile.  
  
He sank down in the chair in front of the fireplace, but smirked slightly despite the hopelessness of the situation. His other match-making attempt was turning out quite nicely, so he was sure he wasn't doing anything too wrong. Millicent had managed to get herself alone with Weasley on several occasions, during a project in Divination, which they both took and he didn't.  
  
He had encouraged that, of course; he had dropped hints to Weasley about Millicent, and had even managed to bribe Trelawney into letting them do a project in Divination. It was good to be rich sometimes. It was even better to be rich at all times.  
  
Sighing, he got up again and headed out, needing time to plan for his future scheming. He'd get Blaise and Granger together if it was so the last thing he did. He was supposed to win every game, dammit!  
  
*****'  
  
He passed by a shelf in the library, intent on getting to the part where the more advanced spell books were, when he heard something form the other side of the shelf and stopped immediately.  
  
To his surprise, it was someone talking, and that someone he recognized as Granger. A quick peek around the shelf confirmed his suspicions, and he took a step back to eavesdrop. The girl was sitting with her forehead on the table, shoulders hunched, and talking to her self in a weary voice.  
  
"I am such a moron. And I'm ugly. Which sums up to be a not-so-nice day, all things considered. No wonder Blaise avoids me like the plague. Heck, I would too, if I were him. I shouldn't really care; he's an inconsiderate git. But, since I do care, a lot more than I should, I have screwed up my life. Isn't that nice? I fall in love with one of the least likely guys on the planet, and he can't even look at me without running away." She mumbled, but Draco could still hear her.  
  
The rant went on, but Draco stopped listening. He was nearly jumping up and down in unconcealed glee; Granger had just inadvertedly told him that she was in love with Blaise. The day couldn't get better; now he had something to tell Blaise, and make sure he didn't feel too bad anymore.  
  
The only problem now was how to tell him. `You know what Granger said in the library?´ might not be the best opening line ever, nor was ´You know Granger, the girl you fancy? Well she told me she's head-over-heels with you. How ´bout that?´. He couldn't exactly drop the bombshell on the poor boy, since it would be too much of a shock and he probably wouldn't believe it anyway.  
  
So, racing back to the Common Room, Draco started figuring out a way to tell Blaise that the girl he liked, liked him back. It shouldn't be too hard, but considering what a strange and complicated person Blaise was, nothing was easy with him.  
  
******'  
  
And the days went by. Draco still hadn't figured out a way to get Blaise to believe him since every time he tried to tell him, Blaise shot him a pained look and told him to get real. But that was the drawback of being a Slytherin, he guessed; no one believed you unless you proved yourself.  
  
"Hey, Blaise, why are you here, and not with Granger? You know she's just dying to be with you." He'd said.  
  
"Shut up, Draco; it ceased being funny even before you said it." Blaise had muttered and buried himself in his book.  
  
So Draco was nearly at his wits end, ready to just blurt it out. It was nearly the end of April, and he was getting desperate; whenever he tried to bring Granger or the library up, Blaise sidestepped the issue and talked about something else.  
  
Finally, one day before Quidditch practise, Draco cornered Blaise and started talking to him. Blaise tried to get away, but Draco would have none of it; Blaise would see the truth if it was so the last thing he'd ever do.  
  
"So, Blaise, you going to the library?" Draco asked, face perfectly straight.  
  
"No!" Blaise exclaimed, but seemed to realize the force of his exclamation only seconds later, "I mean no; I've got nothing to do there."  
  
"Mhm. And I bet it's because of Granger; you don't want to run into her and make a fool of yourself. I know how you feel. But then again, if you never do anything about this crush, you'll never get anywhere, and granger will never know." Draco shrugged, "And she will miss out on someone who could have been her first real boyfriend."  
  
"First real boyfriend? Do you think I'm stupid or blind? I've seen how she looks at Weasley." Blaise snapped, looking angry.  
  
"Yeah, I've seen how she looks at Weasley; despairing because of his stupidity. Why she's friends with him I'll never know; he's an idiot!" Draco snapped back, "And for that matter, so are you!"  
  
"What?" Blaise asked, momentarily shocked.  
  
"Yes, you are an idiot! All you ever do is daydream about Granger, sneaking looks at her when you think no one notices, and don't even try to deny it because I've seen you! And now, when this has been going on for over two months, you don't even have to guts to tell her about it!" Draco was shouting now.  
  
"Don't have the guts to tell her? Don't have the guts? I have reasons, Draco and damn good ones!" Blaise shouted back.  
  
They were standing not far from the Quidditch pitch, but there was no one around to hear them as the team was inside, eating lunch before practise. Draco had his Quidditch robes on, already outside to get ready for the practise game against Ravenclaw.  
  
"Oh, you do, do you? Well, why don't you tell me? Because I doubt she'd say no if you went and asked her out!" Draco shot.  
  
"You do? Well, you weren't there, Draco, and you didn't see her face! I've never seen someone look so shocked and damn near disgusted! I know better than you Draco, and even though I appreciate your concern, I'd rather you just leave me alone." Blaise ran a hand through his hair, looking exhausted.  
  
Draco stepped back; looking disappointed and not a little disgusted himself. The knuckles on the hand gripping the broom were white, and he had a very tight lipped expression.  
  
"If that's how you want it; fine. I heard her say she loves you, but if you're too damn stubborn to take the chance and tell her, it's not my problem." He said before turning on his heels and heading towards the pitch.  
  
******'  
  
To say that Blaise was confused was like saying the ocean was a trifle wet. It was like saying that being hit by a herd of mad Hippogriffs was a mite uncomfortable. It was a severe understatement. His thoughts seemed to storm around more violently than the eruption of Vesuvius.  
  
Hermione loved him? How was that possible? No, Draco had to be lying; Hermione couldn't love him. Draco couldn't know, he hadn't been there when...it... had happened. Draco must have been lying. That was the only reasonable explanation; for Draco to have spoken the truth, Hermione had to have been joking. Yes, that must be it.  
  
But Hermione would never have joked about something like that, not to Draco, not even if she'd been out of her mind. The only logical explanation was that she had been serious, talking to someone, probably her friends, and that Draco had overheard her.  
  
But that brought him right back to his initial problem; Hermione loved him. By all rights he should be ecstatic, jumping-up-and-down, wetting-his- trousers kind of happy, but he was honestly confused as to where to go from here.  
  
Frankly, he hadn't fully realized what had happened yet. Maybe if he repeated it a few times to himself, it'd be easier. ´Let's see; Hermione loves me. Hermione loves me. Hermione loves me. Nope, doesn't seem to be working.´ A few more times then. ´Hermione loves me. Hermione loves me.´  
  
"Hermione loves me." He whispered aloud.  
  
Yes, now it seemed to have gotten through his thick head. Well, now he had convinced himself; all he had to do now was to find Hermione and tell her everything. Next problem; where to find her? The library was out of the question; she hadn't been there since the ´incident´, as he had termed it. The Gryffindor Common Room was impossible as well, since he was a Slytherin, and as such didn't know the password.  
  
But perhaps he should try anyway. Having made up his mind, he set off towards the castle and the Gryffindor Tower. The Slytherin Quidditch team looked at him strangely as he walked up the stone steps to the doors, unable to fight off the insane grin on his face.  
  
Life was starting to look up.  
  
******'  
  
Neville Longbottom was just rounding the corner in the corridor, and set eyes on the Fat Lady's Portrait, when he realized there was someone standing outside, someone he didn't recognized, and who, judging by the colour of his tie, shouldn't even be within ten days reach of the Gryffindor Tower.  
  
He approached the painting slowly and nervously, but determined not to let the Slytherin bully him this close to home. But, when he came closer, the Slytherin didn't lash out on him, or insult him in any way, but turned to him with a small smile on his face.  
  
"Hello, " The boy said, "Do you know where Hermione Granger is?"  
  
"Um.no." He said hesitantly, "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"Oh, I've got something important to tell her. It's a very, very important. Life-deciding, almost." The Slytherin said, solemnly, although Neville doubted he meant it.  
  
"Well, I c-could ask Ron and Harry about it." Neville offered, stuttering a bit.  
  
"Could you? That would be very helpful of you." The other boy said, looking hopeful.  
  
Neville nodded and turned to the painting, and quickly said the password, hoping that the Slytherin boy he didn't recognize caught it, because he was sure he'd be blamed for it if he managed to get a Slytherin inside the Gryffindor Tower.  
  
He climbed inside quickly and ran up the stairs, trying to find Harry and Ron. They'd know what to do, even if it was a Slytherin, and they had had a rather confusing run-in with Malfoy earlier.  
  
"What is it Neville?" Ron asked, opening the door to their dorm.  
  
"Some S-Slytherin down by the portrait wants to know where Hermione is." Neville got out.  
  
"A Slytherin? And you actually believed him?" Ron said, sounding rather derisive.  
  
"Yes, he did, Weasley. Where is Hermione?" A voice behind them asked.  
  
Ron spun around and set eyes on, (you guessed it) Blaise. The redhead's mouth dropped, working up and down, but not a sound came out. Doubtlessly, the shock of seeing a Slytherin in the Gryffindor Common Room had robbed him of his speech.  
  
"Come on; I really, really need to know where she is. Please, could you tell me?" Blaise was nearly begging now.  
  
"Ron, what's going on?" Harry asked, as he appeared in the doorway behind them. "What's he doing here? He's a Slytherin!"  
  
"Thank you for pointing out the bleedin' obvious, Potter. Now, tell me where Hermione is, or I will go to McGonagall and tell her about you little, shall we say escapades, with Weasley's sister." Blaise threatened.  
  
"Wha-?" Harry started, but stopped when he saw Ron's expression. "Alright, alright; I'll tell you, but if you hurt Hermione, you're in big trouble."  
  
"Potter, I would sooner cut off my hand. Trust me." Blaise assured him.  
  
"She's by the lake, or rather, on that little island near the middle of it, studying. That's where she's been since Madame Pince banned her from the library for trying to check out too many books." Harry said all this very fast, looking nervously at Ron the whole time, who was developing a very interesting shade of red.  
  
"Too many books? Is that was she calls it?" Blaise smiled, "Well, I never thought I'd say this, but thanks Potter."  
  
With that, he started down the stairs again, leaving behind three very confused Gryffindor boys, one of them on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the second one being the cause of it. The last thing he heard before he climbed out the portrait hole was Ron shouting from the top of the stairs.  
  
He chuckled quietly; Potter was in deep, deep trouble now. The only reason why Weasley hadn't blown up when he found out about her dating Michael Corner in their Fifth year was because he knew that his sister was an expert with Bat-Bogey Hex. Draco Malfoy was the living proof of that.  
  
Now, to find Hermione.  
  
*******'  
  
Fifteen minutes later, he was standing by the shore, looking incredibly sullen and angry. There were a few rowing boats that were the school's property. Unfortunately, the few that were in the school's care were being repaired. The one boat that wasn't being repaired was the one Hermione had taken.  
  
Ergo, he'd either had to wait until she came back, which could be tonight or something like it, or he could go out there now and get it off his chest. The trouble was; he'd have to swim. He measured the distance with his eyes, coming to the conclusion that he'd make it, and made up his mind.  
  
Striding in, he didn't even bother to take off his robe before he began to swim. The water was cold, seeing as it was only April, and he immediately decided that it had been a dumb idea, but gritted his teeth and continued swimming. He would make it to the island.  
  
The island itself was small, with only enough room for a small clump of trees, a patch of grass and nothing more. He could see Hermione sitting under one of the trees; she hadn't spotted him yet, apparently too engrossed in her book.  
  
When he was only a few feet from the shore, he hit his knees on a large stone, and swearing slightly and making Hermione notice, he stood up, water dripping of his now waterlogged and very heavy robes and strode ashore, trying to keep a straight face at her dumbfounded expression.  
  
He plopped down beside her, trying not to soak her and smiled, fighting the grin from making a sudden and unwelcome appearance. She looked utterly and completely shocked; she didn't even try to from words, she just sat there, staring.  
  
"Hello." He said.  
  
´You are such a moron, Blaise. You swim across the lake, getting soaked in the process, sit down next to the girl you love who incidentally loves you as well, and all you can come up with is hello? You are pathetic´ He told himself despairingly.  
  
********'  
  
Hermione had fled to her little island, taking the last boat, just to make sure no one would bother her, and had brought her books to study for the N.E.W.T's. She liked the little island; no one would disturb her there, and it was silent and nice, much like the library.  
  
Today she'd fled there to avoid Malfoy; he'd been bothering her all day about Blaise, asking questions she just couldn't answer without making a big damn fool of herself. He had annoyed her constantly, until she'd told him to shut up or get a hex in his general direction.  
  
She didn't even notice Blaise until he stood up at the shore, soaking wet and with water running down his face, and managing, despite all that, to look both generally gorgeous and insanely happy. Just how he did it, she'd never know.  
  
He walked up to her and plopped down on the grass, barely avoiding splashing her with water. He smiled, looking like he was ready to shout out loud in happiness, and she wondered, however momentarily, how it would be like to kiss him.  
  
"Hello." He said.  
  
´Right. So, he swims across the lake, sits down next to you without reason, and says hello. How do you answer without making a complete and utter ass of yourself?´ She thought, nearly biting her nails in worry.  
  
******'  
  
Ending Notes; *smiles* we're closing in on the end, people. Next chapter is probably going to be the last. Which makes it my first finished multi- chapter fic. Hope you liked this chapter, and I hope you will like the next. 


	10. The Most Illfated Revenge Scheme Ends

No special author's notes before this chapters, lads and lasses, just a heartfelt thank you to all my reviewers. Author's notes are added at the end instead. But just one thing before we begin, whoever gets the Monty Python reference in this chapter gets a free cookie. *grins*  
  
*****'  
  
"Hello."  
  
Well, that was the most intelligent answer she could come up with at such short notice. She was being rather distracted by Blaise's dishevelled appearance, and had a hard time concentrating on anything.  
  
Silence fell over the two of them, since neither knew what to say. Blaise ran a hand through his wet hair and wrung the water out his robes, or at least made a valiant attempt to. Hermione watched him, unable to look away.  
  
"What are you doing here anyway?" She asked, and immediately wished she hadn't.  
  
"I wanted to go for a swim." Blaise said, keeping a perfectly straight face.  
  
"Really?" Hermione threw him a sceptical glance.  
  
"Nope." He answered, confusing her further.  
  
"Then why are you here?" She asked, getting a little annoyed.  
  
"I felt like coming." Blaise shrugged.  
  
Hermione blinked, and didn't know what to reply to that. Blaise had felt like swimming across the lake, in chillingly cold water, just to sit down next to her and say hello. Not one second of the last minute had made sense. Scratch that; not one second of the last few weeks had made sense.  
  
"And why, pray tell, did you feel like coming? Just to annoy me and interrupt my studying?" She asked, deciding that he was probably only there to gloat anyway.  
  
"You know, Draco told me something curious today." Blaise said, as if he hadn't heard her. "He told me that I was a stubborn oaf. He said that he'd given up on me ever finding my brain."  
  
"Well, so have I, with the difference that I'm not as thick as Malfoy." Hermione spat, returning to her book.  
  
"He also told me something else." Blaise continued on, even though she ignored him the best she could. "He told me had overheard you saying something even more curious. I'm not sure if I believe him though. He's not one for telling the truth."  
  
Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes; who would have thought that Blaise Zabini was such a champion rambler? Not she that was for sure. And about such unimportant things as Draco Malfoy's comings and goings.  
  
"I mean, what he said couldn't possibly be true could it? But then my brain finally kicked into action, although it must have some sort of dysfunction, seeing as I voluntarily swam across the bloody lake." Blaise rambled on.  
  
"Really? How fascinating." She mumbled, trying against all hope to tune him out.  
  
Was it her fault that Blaise had such a beautiful voice? He was, no matter how she tried, impossible to ignore. Giving up, she listened.  
  
"Well, it was. Shocking is more correct to describe it as. I've never been so surprised in my life." He agreed.  
  
Against her will, she was becoming interested. What could possibly be so fascinating that Blaise had to swim across the lake and tell her, of all people, about? After the episode in the library, he wouldn't even look at her.  
  
"Well, are you going to tell me and let me get back to work, or are you going to ramble all day?" She asked, raising an eyebrow and putting down her book.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry; he said he'd heard you say you loved me. Of course, that couldn't possibly happen; you haven't even looked at me in weeks." Blaise said, extremely quickly and rose to leave.  
  
Hermione shocked. How dare he? How dare Malfoy say something like that? Blaise had only come here to gloat and laugh at her after all. She stood up abruptly, causing Blaise to stop and turn around.  
  
"How dare you?" She demanded, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, "How dare you? How dare you come and laugh at me? How dare you even think that you could laugh at me?"  
  
Blaise looked bewildered for a moment, apparently puzzling over what she meant, before realization dawned, and then his expression turned shocked. He took a step forward and grabbed her shoulders desperately.  
  
"I am not here to laugh at you. How could you even think that? Draco just told me, ten minutes ago, that you loved me. Do you know how I reacted? I couldn't move, couldn't speak, and couldn't breathe." He said insistently. "I couldn't believe that you, of all people, would love me. It just wasn't possible. I mean, I've spent the last few weeks wallowing in misery, because I thought you hated me, and then it turns out it's the other way around."  
  
Hermione felt much like he described. What was he talking about? Why was he telling her this? Was he really telling her that he liked, if not loved, her? Was this even happening?  
  
"What?" She asked stupidly.  
  
"I'm telling you I love you, Hermione. Now please tell me this wasn't just a prank of Draco's, and that I don't have to die of embarrassment." He pleaded. "Because it feels like I just made a huge fool of myself."  
  
"N-no, you haven't made a fool of yourself. And it isn't just a prank Malfoy played, although I would give pretty much to find out how he knows, but it's true." She rambled.  
  
Blaise relaxed somewhat, and smiled that insanely beautiful smile. How he managed to look handsome, even when his clothes were dripping wet and he had seaweed in his hair, she didn't know, but somehow he managed to pull it off.  
  
Taking Hermione by surprise, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly. And this time, neither of them gave thought to pull away. Neither of them cared that they were getting soaked, nor that there would probably be hell to pay later.  
  
*****'  
  
High up in the air above the Quidditch pitch, Draco Malfoy nearly fell off his broom laughing. Goyle, one of the Slytherin teams Beaters, had just knocked himself out with his own bat.  
  
Suddenly, while clutching his broom tightly to not fall off, he spotted Potter coming out on the field, followed by Weasley and Longbottom. Curious, he dived and landed just in front of the Gryffindors.  
  
"What prompted the field-invasion?" He asked, keeping the sneer off his face.  
  
"Well, it's not like we want to be here, Malfoy, but we're looking for Hermione." Potter explained.  
  
"And I should know where she is because?" Draco asked, confused now.  
  
"Because one of the bloody Slytherins came to our Common Room and asked where she was! It's obvious you're behind this Malfoy!" Ron exploded.  
  
"One of the Sly-"Draco stated, but broke off as he realized who it must have been. "I can't believe it! What'd he say?"  
  
"He asked where H-Hermione was, and said it was r-really important." Longbottom broke in.  
  
"He did? I can't believe he actually got over himself! Finally! Well, if he isn't bugging you still, you must know where she is." Draco said, shrugging.  
  
"We know she's on the island in the lake, but what would that Slytherin want with her?" Potter pointed out, somewhat logically.  
  
"Well, that Slytherin has a name; Blaise Zabini, and what he wants with her is his own business. Ergo, you shouldn't bother me about it." Draco grinned, "Besides, you'll find out soon enough, if I'm any judge."  
  
"What?" Weasley asked, sounding as stupid as he unfortunately looked.  
  
"Just trust me on this one, Weasley; Granger won't be harmed. Blaise knows what he's doing. And if he doesn't, I'll thrash his senseless for being such a coward. Now, have a good day." Draco grinned again before kicking off.  
  
Potter, Weasley and Longbottom were left standing there, looking more confused than when they came. Draco nearly laughed again, dangerously near falling off again. It was so funny to confuse the Gryffindors.  
  
But it seemed the straight-forward approach worked when dealing with Blaise; when none of his other plans worked, he had decided to just drop the whole thing on his classmate's head and be done with it. And to his surprise, it had worked just fine; is Blaise bothered to go and look for Granger in the Gryffindor Common Room, the black haired boy had decided to believe him.  
  
*******'  
  
The oars creaked slightly, as Blaise rowed back to the shore. Hermione had reminded him that they should be heading back and he had reluctantly agreed. Of course, he didn't really want to go back, since he knew he would be facing a questioning from the Gryffindor boys, which only proved that there was one person in the universe that expected the Spanish Inquisition.  
  
The boat thumped against the shore, and they got out quietly. Neither could keep the smiles off their faces, and often the journey back to the castle was interrupted for a kiss or two. However, when they arrived at the doors of the castle, Blaise stopped for a moment.  
  
"What is it?" Hermione asked, stopping as well.  
  
"Er, I'm not sure if I should go in there right now; your Gryffindor friends aren't exactly fond of me." He said hesitantly.  
  
"Aren't exactly fond of you?" Hermione wondered, "Blaise, what did you do?"  
  
"I kind of got Longbottom to let me into your Common Room, although ´let me in´ is a slight exaggeration. I let myself in after he opened the portrait, and then I got Weasley and Potter to tell me where you were." Blaise explained, looking rather sheepish.  
  
"Harry and Ron." Hermione corrected, prompting Blaise to look at her curiously. "You're my boyfriend now, and that means you'll have to get used to them as well; they're my friends. No matter how thick they can be."  
  
"Right. It's all for promoting Inter-House Welfare, I guess." Blaise grinned. "Besides, Pot- sorry, Harry, isn't as stupid as he looks. And for Weas - Ron to make it to the Seventh year, he must have something behind that forehead of his."  
  
Kissing him on the cheek, Hermione smiled encouragingly and they walked inside. Neither noticed Draco spying on them from his vantage point on his broom. He was having a very hard time not laughing out loud.  
  
******'  
  
After Blaise had walked her to the Common Room, Hermione climbed inside, only to find two Gryffindor boys, dying to give her the third degree. Ron looked torn between screaming at her, and, judging from his constant looks, killing Harry. Harry himself was looking rather worried.  
  
"Hey, Hermione, can you come over her a sec?" Harry called out.  
  
"What is it?" She asked as she sat down across form them.  
  
"Well, while you were gone studying, there was someone here asking for you." Harry began.  
  
"So? People ask for me all the time, don't they?" Hermione smiled, "I'm sure it isn't a unique experience for you."  
  
"It was a Slytherin." Ron cut in, "And he came into our Common Room."  
  
"Yes, Ron, you've already told me he came here." Hermione said patiently.  
  
"Well, why? Why did he come and look for you?" Ron demanded.  
  
Hermione didn't answer, but smiled dreamily instead. Silently, she stood up and walked up the stairs to the girls dorms. The boys were left sitting there with just as little information as when she'd come in.  
  
Ron shut his mouth, which had fallen open sometime during the conversation, and turned to Harry.  
  
"Harry, something is definitely wrong here." He said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"She comes in several hours later than she said she'd be here, she uses something eerily like sarcasm on us, and then when we ask what that Slytherin wanted, she just walks out on us." Ron ticked off on his fingers.  
  
"Yeah. I wonder what happened?" Harry said, standing up as well. "Well, I have to go; I've got Divination homework to finish."  
  
Ron remained in the chair by the fireplace for a long time, trying to figure out the connection between Hermione and the Slytherin, whose name he couldn't remember at the moment. Whatever it was, he would find out. He didn't want some Slytherin hurting his best friend.  
  
******'  
  
Millicent looked up from her book as Blaise entered the Slytherin Common Room, grinning like a fool. She put down the book and raised an eyebrow at him, which eh returned by grinning even wider.  
  
"It seems you finally got your head out of your arse and asked Granger out." She said, smirking.  
  
"More like finally told her how I felt and proceeded to snog her senseless." Blaise grinned.  
  
"What?" Millicent laughed, "You just said, ´Hey, Granger, I'm head over heels with you´ and snogged her?"  
  
"Nah, more like, she asked me why I swam across the lake in my clothes, and it sort of went from there." Blaise admitted, blushing.  
  
Millicent grinned; she could just picture Blaise swimming across the lake just to talk to Granger. He was the kind of guy who would do anything for the girl he loved. She just wished Ron Weasley could be the same way, towards her.  
  
"Well, I've got a book to return to the library." She said, standing up.  
  
"Yeah, I'll see you around, Millie. Thanks for listening to a lovesick fool." Blaise smiled.  
  
"You're a fool alright, but I'm sure Pomfrey can fix you something for the sick part." She grinned before leaving him.  
  
The entrance slammed shut behind her, and she trudged silently up the steps towards the library. It was kind of cold in the dungeons, but after seven years in Slytherin, she was used to it.  
  
She nodded to Madame Pince as she reached the library, and headed off towards one of the shelves. She didn't really need to return a book; she'd only used that as an excuse to get away from Blaise. Not that he was rude or annoying, but because he had someone now, someone who wanted him just as much as he wanted her, someone Millicent was sure she'd never have.  
  
It would be nice to have someone she could depend on, someone she could go walking through Hogsmeade with on weekends, talking about whatever came to mind. Sadly, she never would have, since Weasley, despite her constant attempts to talk to him, still hadn't realized anything.  
  
She sat down at a table, staring at nothing, because frankly she had nothing better to do. She didn't even notice Ron coming up to her before he spoke.  
  
"Mi- uh, Bulstrode?" He asked, stumbling a bit over it before deciding on using her last name.  
  
"Yes?" She answered, smiling.  
  
She had a hard time not smiling when he was around. He was just so cute and awkward and stumbling and wonderful. So very, very Gryffindor. But so very, very attractive, at least in her eyes. And the fact that he was one of the few boys in school she didn't have to look down on while speaking to was a plus as well.  
  
"Um, I have a question for you." He said hesitantly and sat down next to her.  
  
"Yes?" She asked, and immediately wanted to kick herself.  
  
She sounded like a kid in a candy store, for crying out loud! If she'd been any more eager, they would have had to chain her down to keep her still. But what if he popped the question she wanted to hear?  
  
******'  
  
Ron had decided to ask the only person who would know what was going on and not bite his head off; Millicent Bulstrode. Since she was Slytheirn, she'd know why that Zabini-guy had come knocking, as well as actually being nice enough to talk to him, even though he was a Weasley and Gryffindor to boot. ´  
  
He and Millicent had been working on a Divination project together, and she'd turned out to be a really nice girl, which was a surprise, considering what House she belonged to. Besides, she'd been acting strangely for a while now, smiling every time he was around and staring at him when she thought he wasn't watching.  
  
And now, when he'd said he had a question for her, she'd looked ready to jump at him and the grin looked about ready to burst off her face.  
  
"Well, there's this Slytherin in our year, Zabini something, and he came looking for Hermione earlier, saying it was important. Hermione was out studying, but she came back much later than she said she'd be, and when we asked about it, she just walked off. Do you know anything about this at all?" He asked, knowing he sounded worried about his friend.  
  
"Oh. That." She said, looking disappointed, "Well, Blaise's had a huge crush on Granger for weeks now, and finally, with some help from Draco, decided to act on it. Apparently, judging from his grin and his rambles when he came back, it went well."  
  
Ron blinked.  
  
And blinked again.  
  
Hermione and a Slytherin? That wasn't possible! Not his friend! Besides, all Slytherins were bastards. But then his brain kicked into action. Millicent wasn't that bad, and she was a Slytherin. And Hermione did smile when she came back.  
  
But that Zabini guy had harassed her for weeks. But then again, she'd harassed him right back. Ergh, it was too confusing for him.  
  
"Hermione and him?" Was all he got out.  
  
"Yes. They seem pretty happy about it, and I wouldn't dare get between Blaise and something he wants." Millicent shrugged.  
  
"Um." He couldn't really think of anything more eloquent to say.  
  
But looking at it from that point of view, it made sense. Hermione had never gone for any of the Gryffindor boys, and from what he remembered about that Zabini boy, he was pretty smart and could very well be the best match for Hermione. Yes, that seemed like what he should think.  
  
"Right. Now I can cross that off my to-do list." He said and smiled, "You have to look after your friends, and that."  
  
"Mhm. That all? She's just a friend of yours? Nothing more?" Millicent asked, smirking slightly, but he got the feeling she actually cared about the answer.  
  
"Oh yes, Hermione and I would never work out; we'd tears each other to shreds after a week. We're just too good friends to ever become something more. It's kinda hard to fall in love with someone you've known since you were eleven; nothing more to learn, you know?" Ron said, although he knew he was going a bit too philosophical in the last sentence.  
  
Millicent smiled, making Ron swallow hard. He'd never really noticed how good she really looked; she'd gotten stuck in his memory as the bullish girl who wrested with Hermione at the duelling club.  
  
But she wasn't bullish anymore; she'd grown up quite nicely, becoming the tallest girl in school. It must have been hard, being forced to look down on all your classmates. He knew how it was, up it was easier for him, seeing as he was a boy, and boys generally were taller than girls. But he was staring to ramble. He'd always been nervous in the presence of pretty girls, and Millicent was no exception.  
  
"Really?" She laughed, blushing slightly, and he realized he'd spoken the last thought aloud.  
  
"Oh God, I didn't just say that, did I?" He asked, burying his face in his hands.  
  
"You did." She said, trying to stop laughing.  
  
"I'm an idiot." He muttered.  
  
"No, not really," She shrugged. "I don't get compliments often, and when I do, it's more along the lines of the one Blaise gave me. ´It's nice of you to listen Millicent.´ or ´thank you for being so nice, Millie.´ It gets old after a while."  
  
"But how can they not think you're pretty?" Ron blurted.  
  
She laughed again, and he felt like he wanted to sink through the floor. Why did he have to be so damn clumsy?  
  
"Thank you Ron." She smiled and pecked him on the cheek, before standing up and heading out of the library.  
  
He sat there for a while, hand pressed to his cheek where her lips had been, staring at nothing with a goofy smile on his face. A pretty girl, and Millicent Bulstrode no less, had just kissed him on the cheek. This was his lucky day.  
  
Getting to his feet, he ran after Millicent, wanting to catch her before she disappeared into the dungeons again. He had to say something, ask her to go with him to Hogsmeade, anything. A girl like that was too good to let go without a fight.  
  
*****'  
  
Millicent had just reached the stairs when she heard running steps behind her, and someone calling her name. She turned around, just as Ron rounded the corner and nearly fell down the stairs.  
  
He started saying something, but she could only pick out words like "please" and "Hogsmeade" and "me" in the jumbled mess. She gave him a hand up from the floor, and tried to get him to calm down.  
  
"Ron, breathe god damnit! You have to slow down!" She exclaimed finally.  
  
A laugh interrupted them just as he was about to speak. Millicent turned around and saw Hermione standing there, clutching the wall for support. She was pointing at Ron, tears of mirth streaming down her face. Beside her stood Blaise, with one arm around her shoulders, grinning as well.  
  
"W- Ron, no matter how smart a person is, never ask them out in Swahili." He advised, chuckling.  
  
"Ask out?" Millicent said. "Ask me out? Well, Ron why didn't you just say so?"  
  
"Well, I didn't...I couldn't.." Ron weebled weakly, trailing off.  
  
"Men!" Millicent muttered, and dragged him away towards the Great Hall.  
  
Blaise and Hermione were left standing there, still laughing at Ron. However, they had not been there long when Draco came in from Quidditch practice, Harry at his heels, arguing about something. What Harry was doing there was a mystery. They were arguing quite fiercely, apparently about tactics, and didn't notice the two until they were but a few feet away.  
  
"Hey, Blaise. I see you got yourself a spine." Draco greeted, and grinned at Hermione.  
  
"Hey, Draco, I see you got yourself a shadow." Blaise shot back. "Having fun?"  
  
"No!" Draco snapped, "Potter just won't realize that the Wronski Feint isn't always the best move for a Seeker."  
  
"So you've found someone to discuss you endless supplies of Quidditch tactics with. How fortunate. But, Hermione and I would like to thank you for your tireless matchmaking crusade; it was what finally kicked my brain into action." Blaise grinned.  
  
He and Hermione headed off towards the Great Hall, following Millicent and Ron, and slowly, Harry and Draco followed as well, still arguing. Harry had yet to notice what Blaise had said, but eventually he would, and everything would be back to normal.  
  
The war had come to an unspoken end, leaving true friendship and love in its wake. The rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was still very much alive and kicking, but it had cooled down a bit, even though it would never entirely fade away.  
  
And so ended one of the most ill-fated revenge schemes in the history of mankind. There was no happily-ever-after, since no one is constantly happy, but there was enough happiness to satisfy and to live on. What happened? That, my friend, is another story, and better suited for another time.  
  
******'  
  
Ending Notes; these are the final, very last ending notes. This is the very last chapter. After this, there will be no more, and I must say that I am sad to see it go. It has been very much part of my life since I started it and it has become one of the few stories I've written that I am wholly satisfied with.  
  
There have been difficult parts, there have been easy parts, but over all, despite all typos and mistakes, all OOCness, I am proud of it. To me, this is the first story I have finished, and as such, it holds a special place in my heart.  
  
I would like to thank all reviewers, although you are too numerous to list here, know that your reviews have been read, appreciated and fondly remembered. You have given me advice I desperately needed, urged me to go on when I thought I couldn't write anymore, and you have made me believe that I am, in fact, a passable writer. Thank you. That's really all I can say.  
  
There will be no sequel to TSS, and I won't change my mind no matter how much you beg. I know this may sound harsh, but this story is finished, and if you want a sequel, make one up yourselves. After all, that is what we fanfiction writers do best.  
  
Once again, thank you.  
  
Metallicafangirl 


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